


Misplaced Memories

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-03
Updated: 2004-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chris loses his memory, he relies on his instinctive trust of Vin to keep him anchored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misplaced Memories

PAIN...

That was the only thing tearing through his mind as he forced his eyes open only to clench them tightly shut again as the flickering of a strobing street lamp propelled shards of agony through his head. Unable to contain a groan as he opened his eyes again, trying to make sense of the blurry world around him.

Pain... go... got to, got to... run... got to keep going...

The injured man forced shaky legs to support him as he clawed his way up the brick wall. Once upright, he staggered along, with a hand on the wall his only support. His hand slipped and he gasped as his right shoulder made contact with the wall.

PAIN... can't... don't stop... got to... pain...

He staggered another step, and then slumped against the wall with both hands cradling his throbbing head.

Pain... got to... got to get... safe...

He ran one hand through blood-matted hair trying to ride the crescendo of pain rolling through his skull. He looked at his hand before laying his head back wearily against the wall. So much blood!

Pain... little more... keep... got to keep going... got to... safe...

He closed his eyes. Safe. Safe was... blue eyes, deep voice... Cowboy. Safe.

With a moan, he shifted and, using one hand along the wall to guide him, he continued down the street as a new, strangely familiar voice entered his head.

Cowboy... keep going...

He followed the wall for another minute and then fell through a doorway; a man yelling at him in Spanish the only thing that kept him off the floor. Ignoring the man, and the others who turned to stare, he staggered through the lobby and straight past the ancient elevator.

Pain... close... keep going... safe...

He reached the stairwell and used the wall and rails to steady his faltering steps as he made his way up the stairs. He slipped and fell to his knees, crying out as shards of pain sliced through his legs, shoulder and head.

Oh, God, pain... more... closer... Cowboy, safe... please...

Sobbing softly, he pushed back to his unsteady feet, taking a couple of steps and then stopping, for a moment, to hold his pounding head again. Slowly, he made his way up the dimly lit stairwell, up four flights of stairs, to the place that he only knew as 'safe'.

Pain... door... no, keep... door... safe...

Lurching, he made his way to the last door at the end of the seemingly endless hall. Squinting at the door, he had time to read the number painted onto the surface before he grabbed his head as his skull exploded.

PAIN... PAIN... No, got to... PAIN

His body collapsed against the door with a thump and he slid to the floor. One final thought echoed through the jumble of images and flashes of bright pain before he lost his battle to remain conscious.

SAFE.

****

"Aw, shit, NO! Come on, boys," Vin Tanner pleaded, jumping to his feet with fists clenched, and sending popcorn flying in all directions.

He paced back and forth in front of the television in agitation as the quarterback ran along the line, and then groaned, throwing his hands to his head in frustration as the opposition brought him down. The ball rolled from beneath the press of bodies straight into the hands of the Denver Broncs.

"Come on! You all's supposed to be Cowboys! You should be busting them Broncs, not them busting you, damnit!"

The ringing of the phone interrupted his tirade as the last quarter of the game slowly played out with only a few minutes to go. It would take a miracle for his team to pull back enough points to take this game now. He snatched the hand-held and barked, "Tanner," unsurprised by the interruption, having been expecting this particular call.

"You know, it really pains me every time I take your money, pard," Buck said, with the smile clear in his voice.

"Yeah, a real pain. I can tell from the shit-ass grin you got on your face when you do it."

"Well, Tanner, if you didn't make busting your ass so easy by betting on that sorry-assed team..."

"Aw, hell, Buck, they's my boys. You don't go betting against your boys."

"That's just fine, Junior," Buck crowed. "You just keep sticking up for your boys, Rosalie sure appreciates--"

"Buck, hang on," Vin's urgent voice interrupted. He tilted his head and listened, not sure if he had heard anything but too well trained to ignore his instincts. Keeping a grip on the hand-held, he quickly crossed the room to the Lazyboy and, flipping up the arm, he removed the gun hidden within.

"Come on, Vin, talk to me." Buck's voice held an edge of concern.

"I think I may have some company," Vin answered softly as he checked the clip and released the safety on his SIG. "Hang on the line while I invite them in for some popcorn."

Vin placed the phone on the Lazyboy carefully, angling it towards the front door of the apartment where he had heard the softest thud above the sound of the football crowd cheering. He wanted to make certain Buck could hear everything that went on, knowing his life might depend on it. Swiftly, he moved to the front door. He paused to the right of the door and listened for movement in the hallway. Nothing. With his gun at the ready, he used his left hand to fling open the door, and took a step back as a body fell into his apartment. Vin quickly checked the hallway for signs of other intruders and then squatted down, searching for a pulse on the blood-soaked form. The figure groaned and Vin moved the head so he could take a good look at the bruised face.

"CHRIS!"

Vin tucked the SIG into the waistband of his jeans. He looked along the hallway but could see no one lurking in the shadows. He dragged Chris fully into the apartment, pushing the door until it was almost closed, and then sank to his knees beside Team 7's leader before he began checking his body and assessing his injuries.

"What the hell happened to you, Larabee?"

Vin stood and ran back to the phone. "Buck, you still there? Call 911."

"I'm here. What the hell happened? You okay?"

"I'm fine, but you need to get an ambulance over to my place. Tell them we've got an officer down."

"What! Come on, talk to me, Vin."

"Just do it, Buck!"

Vin turned off the phone and tossed it onto the couch as he rushed past and into the bathroom. He returned with a handful of towels and snatched a cushion from the couch before dropping to the floor next to Chris. He pressed one towel against the deep gash in Chris's thigh, stripping off his belt and using it to strap the towel in place and put pressure on the wound at the same time. The shoulder injury looked far worse and Vin had little doubt that someone had shot Chris, with the bullet going clean through. He raised Chris's upper body, leaning Chris against him as he tugged off the light jacket before positioning one towel over the injury at the back of Chris's shoulder, then clenched his teeth in barely suppressed rage for this was the entrance wound. Some bastard had shot Chris in the back.

He lay Chris back down and pushed the thick cushion under Chris's calves to elevate his legs. Chris groaned as Vin firmly pressed another towel over the exit wound on his shoulder. Visibly, he checked over the rest of Chris's body, searching for other open wounds but found none so he shifted slightly, keeping pressure on the shoulder while he pressed one last towel against the still seeping wound on Chris's head. Vin stared at the battered and bloodied face, releasing pressure on the head wound just long enough to reach out and brush the blood matted strands of hair out of Chris's eyes and off the tall forehead. He grinned in relief when the pale eyelashes flickered.

"Chris?"

Glazed eyes opened to narrow slits and swept around the room; pain filled them... and Vin could see no recognition of his surroundings. Vin saw the panic and fear rising as Chris's gaze came to him and then relief as the green eyes latched onto Vin's like a babe that had found its mama.

"Safe," came a hoarse whisper.

"Chris?" Vin repeated softly, but the eyelashes flickered, closing over the soft green as Chris fell back into unconsciousness brought on by shock and blood loss.

The sound of a distant siren caught at Vin's hearing even as the last of the football played out on the old TV set behind him, with the Dallas Cowboys forgotten as he awaited the arrival of the paramedics. Long, anxious minutes passed before a figure stepped into the doorway, and Vin sighed his relief that help had arrived.

He answered the paramedic's questions quickly and succinctly as the man stepped into the apartment and placed his case beside Chris. Another paramedic followed him in, dropping to the other side of Chris, with his face ruddy from the exertion of racing up four flights of stairs with his heavy equipment case. Inwardly, Vin swore, knowing that meant the elevator had broken down again.

Chris moaned softly as the Paramedic set to work, bringing Vin's attention back to the man held in his arms. The pale eyelashes fluttered.

"It's okay. You're safe, Chris," Vin softly intoned as he relinquished pressure on first one wound and then another as the Paramedics took over. He glanced up as they ripped into sterile packs, moving together like a well-oiled machine as they worked to stabilize Chris. "Hang on in there, Cowboy."

Fifteen minutes later, Vin grabbed his cell phone and tucked it into his back pocket. He assisted as the paramedics strapped Chris securely into a chair stretcher and then, holding the IV bag, he and the paramedics maneuvered the semi-conscious man down the poorly lit, narrow flights of stairs to the waiting ambulance. Vin cursed the ancient elevator as one paramedic slipped and almost dropped his end of the stretcher, knowing they could have sent Chris tumbling down the flight. He looked down and realized the spilt liquid that had almost caused the accident was blood -- probably Chris's blood -- only then looking further down the dimly lit staircase to see further evidence of Chris's determination to reach him despite his injuries.

The doors onto the stairwell were open at each floor as the occupiers of other apartments gave into morbid curiosity, wanting to see the free show. Others stood in the dirty lobby, and Vin felt his lips tighten in anger, knowing Chris must have stumbled past some of these people and they had done nothing to help him. Instead, they had stood by and left Chris to climb those stairs alone.

Vin refused to dwell on what would have happened if Chris had not made it to his door, imagining finding his best friend's cold, dead body in the stairwell when he took the stairs to work tomorrow morning.

The blue and red of the ambulance lights illuminated the badly lit street, reflecting off windows where other curious onlookers stared out at the scene below. A small crowd had gathered and Vin recognized a tall figure barreling his way through them as he and the Paramedics loaded Chris into the back of the ambulance.

"Vin!"

Vin hesitated for a moment and turned to the paramedics. "Where we headed?"

"Mercy General."

Vin turned and yelled back at Buck, "It's Chris. I'm riding with him to Mercy General. Lock my place up and meet me there."

Wasting no more time, Vin clambered in beside Chris, with the back doors slamming shut on Buck's horrified expression, and hearing the sirens begin to wail as the ambulance moved off. He knew Buck would do as he asked even though every instinct would be driving the man to get to the hospital as fast as he could. Also, Vin had no doubt in his mind that the rest of the team would be there soon after no matter what plans they had made for the that evening -- if they were not already on their way.

****

This was the part Vin hated most, relinquishing someone he cared about into the hands of others -- even if they were life-saving professionals -- and with Chris that always seemed ten times worse some how. He hated feeling so useless, and he hated not knowing what was happening, almost terrified that Chris might lose his tenuous hold on life if he was not there to keep the man anchored to this world.

Vin sank down into a seat in the waiting area, knowing from a previous time that he would gain no access to the area lying beyond the double doors where doctors and nurses would be prepping Chris for immediate surgery. He glanced up as a shadow fell over him, smiling weakly into Buck's stricken face.

"What the hell happened, Vin?"

"I opened my door and he fell in... covered in blood and bruises." Vin pursed his lips in anger before continuing. "Near as I can tell, he'd been shot in the back... through the shoulder." He saw white-hot anger fill Buck's blue eyes. "Got a bad gash in his thigh and a head wound too. Didn't seem to know where the hell he was, though he must have staggered from wherever it happened."

Buck sank into the seat next to Vin and nodded towards the closed set of doors. "They said anything yet?"

"No... just took a few details from me concerning Chris."

"Then I guess we have to wait it out."

"The boys know?"

"They're on their way."

****

With his eyes closed, a multitude of sounds and sensations whirled up to surround him. They blended to create the cacophony that currently defined his entire world; the beeping of an EKG, its steady beat almost comforting; the constant drip of IVs pouring fluids into his damaged and dehydrated body; the smells... chemicals, food, coffee. He had a sense of being closed in and yet he felt free despite the warm weight on the wrist of his right arm. Sounds and sensations that told him -- without even having to open his eyes -- that he was in a hospital.

He sighed. Keeping his eyes closed was not going to make the pain go away or answer any of the questions starting to fill his mind. He took a deep breath and made note of the various aches and pains within his body. The battered man slowly opened his eyes and glanced around the room.

Yep, he was in a hospital. His eyes panned one side of the room, before landing on his own body as he catalogued the bruises and bandages that he could see. His eyes were drawn to the weight on his right arm only to find a warm hand encircling his wrist. He followed that hand to the head that lay beside it, the person's face shielded by a curtain of brown, curly hair. Needing answers, he turned his right hand gently within the other's, groaning as he gripped the hand and gave it a soft squeeze. The squeeze was returned and, after a beat, the head popped up with a gasp. Bleary blue eyes found his. The man let out a deep sigh and then his face brightened into a grin.

"Hey, Cowboy, 'bout time you woke up." The deep voice brought with it an image of the same blue-eyed man leaning, shirtless, against a fence, with a broad smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes.

Agony tore through his head, shattering the image. He tried to reach up with both hands to cradle his skull, only to awaken the slumbering pains within his abused body. He moaned and tried to curl in on himself sending white-hot shards of pain through his limbs.

PAIN...

He heard sounds of feet, of movement, and felt hands reaching for him, touching him. He snatched himself away, trying to escape the hands... the pain. He had to escape the sounds and sensations bombarding his body. Then, he heard a voice, with its deep soothing resonance drowning out everything else. He stopped and listened to the voice pushing through the fog. He did not know whom the voice belonged to but knew it was a good voice, a strangely familiar voice, and he knew he could relax now. He was safe. With a tremulous sigh, he simply let go, with his body all but collapsing against the bed. He still felt hands but now only two; one tightly grasping his shoulder while the other tried to soothe him, stroking his leg -- and he knew he was safe. Instinctively his hand reached out, and someone snagged and squeezed it within a strong and comforting grip. He clasped the hand with what little strength he had, struggling to allow the pain to wash over him as he fought to open his eyes again.

He frowned as the blue eyes came into focus once more. A single word trickled through his mind; a word that spoke of safety, and he allowed the word to roll off his tongue -- Vin -- and was rewarded with a blindingly beautiful grin.

****

Vin grinned as he heard Chris breathe his name but it faded quickly when a look of fear crossed Chris's face as the unfocused eyes panned around the room once more. He leaned in closer, with his hand squeezing Chris's just that little tighter in reassurance.

"Chris?"

"Where am I?" Chris looked around wide-eyed, his weak, hoarse voice holding a slight tremor.

"Mercy General... the hospital."

"Why?"

Vin looked flummoxed. "I was kind of hoping you'd be able to tell *me*, Cowboy."

"Cowboy? Ain't a cowboy... Am I?"

The doctor chose that moment to enter, the nurse who had come to check on Chris having informed him that his patient had awakened. He stepped up to the side of the bed and smiled at Chris.

"Hello, Chris. My name's Dr. Jamieson. How are you feeling?"

Vin moved out of the way to allow the doctor room to check over the various equipment. He noticed the nurse quietly slipping back into the room and then he watched as Dr. Jamieson began a series of gentle tests, trying to smile reassuringly when Chris looked to him in confusion and then fear. Vin observed Chris carefully as Dr. Jamieson checked his eyes, asking him to follow his pen without turning his head, his voice reciting numbers and abbreviations softly, which the nurse scribbled onto a form held on a clipboard.

"Can you tell me your full name?"

"Chris..." He answered and then Vin saw a deep frown form ridges across the bruised forehead before Chris's eyes widened with fear.

"Chris?" The doctor prompted gently and then smiled as Chris showed no signs of remembering the rest. "It's all right. Don't try to force it just yet. You've been unconscious for almost two days and there's some swelling from a blow to your head."

"How did I hurt my head?"

"We're not sure. What's the last thing you can recall?"

The silence seemed to stretch for an eternity and yet Vin knew it had been only seconds. He saw the green eyes dart to his, holding onto him like a lifeline.

"Vin."

"That's good. Vin's your friend. Do you remember the rest of his name?"

Chris looked back at the doctor and, at that moment, he looked more vulnerable and frightened than Vin had ever seen him before. His green eyes darted back to Vin, and Vin could see Chris desperately studying every line of his face in the hope of prompting the memory, but to no avail.

"I-I can't remember."

Dr. Jamieson laid a reassuring hand on Chris's arm. "It's all right. Don't force it." He continued with a series of motor skills tests and more memory tests, unperturbed when Chris failed to recall even the significance of the date September 11.

Vin remained silent throughout the tests, biting into his lower lip in shared anguish. The doctor ordered a light sedative that sent Chris back to sleep and then, on a polite request, Vin followed Dr. Jamieson into the corridor beyond. He chewed his lower lip nervously as they took several more steps away from where Chris now lay in a drugged sleep, listening as the doctor outlined Chris's general health. Finally, Vin had to ask.

"What's wrong with his memory?"

"We call it Retrograde Amnesia. It's a condition where the patient... Chris, in this case, cannot remember things in the past. But the good news is that he is not having any difficulty storing new memories so..."

"Will he ever recall anything from his past?"

"In most cases, a high percentage of the memories do return." Dr. Jamieson sighed softly. "I'm not going to sugar-coat this. Memories closest to the time of the trauma might never be recovered so you will have to be prepared for that."

"He did recall me. I was the last person he saw before he fell unconscious--"

"You were also the first person he saw when he awoke."

Vin closed his eyes and sighed softly, only now realizing that the last thing Chris could recall might only be his first sight on awakening. He thanked Dr. Jamieson and stepped back into Chris's room, staring at the man who lay in childlike sleep upon the bed, encased in bandages and surrounded by medical equipment.

****

PAIN...

He could hear his labored breathing as he ran down darkened alleyways. A dog snarled, leaping at the chain-link fence that held it prisoner in its backyard, and he stumbled. He pushed unsteadily to his feet and staggered on. A screech of tires and the sound of garbage being scattered at high velocity sent him slamming up against a wall, into the shadows. He whipped his head sideways, trying to raise his one good arm to protect himself as objects came hurtling towards him, unable to muffle his cry of pain as several boxes and other items bombarded him. Searing agony across his thigh combined with the stunning blow to the side of his face, sending his head slamming back against the brick work hard enough for him to see stars.

The car had stopped thirty or more feet ahead, and he could hear raised voices. He staggered away from the sound and fell through a door left ajar, landing hard on his ass and, some how, managing to stifle the scream of agony as his shoulder bounced off the hard ground. With his senses spinning, he lost whatever he had been eating that evening, shoving the door closed even as he retched, then leaning heavily against the solid metal door while he sought a bar or bolt to lock it.

Something slammed up hard against the other side of the door, and he pressed back against it in fear as the whole door vibrated from the force, feeling it gradually giving way as a man's voice began to call his name...

"Chris! Chris!"

Chris opened his eyes to find a stranger looking down on him, and he twisted aside, trying to escape the man leaning over him and struggling when the man reached out to grab at his shoulder.

"Chris! It's Buck! You're safe now. You're--"

"No!" He cried out as a needle slid into the IV tube, feeling lethargy creep over him as the sedating drug took effect. As his attempts to struggle grew feeble, Chris could only whimper as the stranger reached for him once more, unable to evade the hand that lightly touched his cheek. However, the man no attempt to harm him, instead he talked soothingly, and now the nightmare had loosened its tight grip he sensed the warm caring of this stranger.

Is this a friend?

The thought echoed through the silent paths of his mind as the man continued to talk to him in a gently reassuring and strangely familiar tone, and following him down into the secure blanket of darkness.

****

Once Chris had slipped back into sleep, Buck fell silent, and his gentle thoughts of his friend turned to anger at whoever had done this to Chris. Vin had warned them all that Chris appeared to be suffering from memory loss but Buck had believed that Chris would recognize him as he and Chris had a long history. However, it was obvious from the look on Chris's face that his oldest friend had not known him.

So why Vin? He thought bitterly. Why had he recognized Vin?

Until this moment, Buck had not felt more than the slightest twinge of jealousy at seeing his place as Chris's best friend usurped by Vin Tanner, but this hurt on a whole new level. Chris moaned softly in his sleep, drawing Buck away from those darker thoughts and he sighed. Secretly he had been hoping Chris would wake up with partial recall and be able to give them some clue as to who had done this to him. All he and the others knew for certain was that Chris's Ram had been found in a chop-shop downtown with most of it already taken to pieces and with the parts sold on. They were still trying to track down the man who had brought it into the garage -- a low life by the name of Wilkes.

Ezra and JD were hard on the case, and in the meantime, no one left Chris alone in case whoever shot him came back to finish the job.

Buck thought back to when the ER doctor had outlined the damage to their friend and leader: shot and then struck by several other objects. The doctor had not dismissed the idea that a car had struck Chris, throwing him with the impact, and causing the other injuries sustained, including the head trauma. However, it was all supposition as the most common injuries -- breaks in the lower legs from the car's bumper striking them -- were missing.

As Buck sat there, he began to think about everything Vin had related to him from that night. Chris's injuries were bad enough to be life threatening, and yet he had managed to reach Vin's apartment on foot. That had to mean he had not been far from Vin's place when the incident happened.

But what could have happened to Chris as he drove through the renowned Devil's Kitchen of Denver? Had he stopped at a red light and seen something? Had someone flagged him down and then jumped him? Car jackers, maybe. Buck knew Chris had intended on watching the game with Vin that evening but the Judge had called him to a late meeting to discuss working practices based on new legislation. Had Chris decided to go to Vin's even though he would have missed most of the game, and had he stopped off to pick up beer?

Buck closed his eyes as some thought niggled at the back of his mind, and he tried to recall a conversation with Chris just a few days earlier. Vin's birthday was coming up. A special gift? Something about a store selling Old West memorabilia. Spurs?

Buck opened his eyes wide. Chris had mentioned a store situated barely two blocks from Vin's apartment. What if he had stopped to check out those spurs again? Or even to buy them for Vin? Buck sat up straighter. They had to find Wilkes. That low-life sleaze operated out of Purgatorio and he would not have been able to resist Chris's Ram when Chris had left it unattended, and especially as it was worth a small fortune in spare parts.

Still, regardless of whether they found Wilkes or not, Buck had a good idea that he had found a fresh starting place for the investigation. Buck stepped out of the room and spoke to the police officer posted just along the corridor, grateful that the Judge had ordered additional protection until they knew what had happened to Chris.

"Need to make a call. Watch him carefully."

He kept his tone light and friendly but the officer straightened, seeing the hard glint that promised terrible consequences should he fail in that duty. Buck found a pay phone close to the elevators and called the office number, relating his thoughts to Josiah and telling him to send Vin and Nathan off to that gun store to check if Chris had been there that night.

Upon ending the call, he replaced the handset into its cradle and leaned his forehead against the wall, feeling the coolness seep into him. He sighed and pushed away, quickly replacing his tightly pressed lips with a ready smile as one of the pretty nurses walked by. He started back towards the ICU room where his oldest friend lay, determined to ensure Chris's safety even if Chris never remembered him from their shared past.

****

Vin paused just outside the small gun store and stared at the weaponry visible through the steel, mesh-protected, glass front. He glanced at Nathan and then stepped inside, giving a perfunctory nod of acknowledgement in the direction of the store owner. Although Vin had questions, he could not ignore the possibility that Chris had walked in here and seen an illegal transaction going down, though it was just as likely that Chris had become the victim of a mugging or car-jacking gone seriously wrong.

Surreptitiously, he checked through the display cabinets for anything unusual but every weapon on display could be bought and sold legally -- as long as both parties had a firearms license and held no criminal record. He wandered over to the other side of the store and saw the cabinet that must have caught Chris's attention according to Buck. Inside he saw a pair of spurs, and though Vin would never entertain the thought of actually wearing them while riding, he could imagine them taking a place of pride in his apartment alongside the well-worn and authentic slouch hat that Chris had bought him for his birthday last year. Next to the spurs was a gun. It was a Colt Model P with stag grip, strategically placed across a silver-studded black gun belt, and it was a beauty. Despite the hefty price tag attached to it, Vin had a feeling Chris would not have been able to see this gun and walk away.

"Nathan?" Vin waited until Nathan drew close and then pointed to the old gun and gun belt. He sensed the store owner approaching, and waited patiently.

"Came in about a week ago. It's an original. I have it on good authority that a gunfighter around the 1870s, 1880s, used it... and that's the original gun belt. That Colt certainly slides in and out of that holster like they were made for each other."

"Have to say it's a fine piece. You got anyone else interested in it?"

It was a simple enough question but Vin noticed momentary unease plainly written in the man's dark eyes.

"Had a few inquiries... but nothing concrete."

"Any recent inquiries? Say... in the last day or so?"

The owner gave a tight smile. "No."

"Well... I got to friend who'd be interested in this piece. I'll tell him to come take a look seeing's how it might still be here tomorrow."

Greed replaced the fear in the man's eyes. "You tell your friend I can supply a history for this piece."

Vin nodded his thanks and walked away, with Nathan following. As soon as they had reached the car, Nathan grabbed Vin's arm.

"You mind telling me what that was all about? Thought we was supposed to be asking if the man had seen Chris?"

"Man was lying so loud his teeth was chattering. Someone had been asking about that Colt recently, an' any good salesman would have owned up to that to pressure a fast sale."

"You think Chris was in there the other night an' asked about that gun?"

"You think Chris could have walked away from that particular piece?"

Nathan looked thoughtful, and slowly shook his head. "No. Don't reckon he could have walked away without it. He's been after one like that for a couple of years now."

"Well... someone was asking about that gun... an' thoughts of that someone made the store owner real uneasy." Vin risked a quick check over his shoulder and was glad to notice the store owner, Jesus Martinez, had turned away at last.

"Where to next?"

"Need to see JD an' get him searching for intel on this place and on Martinez... see if anything turns up." He climbed into the passenger seat of Nathan's car. "Then I'm heading back to the hospital to check on Chris."

They drove in silence until they had left Purgatorio behind them, and then Vin turned in his seat, studying Nathan's profile. "Doc said he has retrograde amnesia."

Nathan flicked a glance across at Vin before turning his attention back to the road ahead. "That's when someone loses memory of events usually just prior to a trauma... but can still make new memories."

"Are them memories gone... or just..?" Vin shrugged as he tried to find the right word.

"Misplaced?"

"Yeah... misplaced."

"Hard to tell, Vin. He took a couple of blows to the head. Doctors should know more once the swelling goes down... but the fact that he knowed you... well, that has to be a good sign that them memories are still in there someplace."

"Did he know me... or was I just the first person he saw on waking?"

"Did you tell him you name?"

Vin pondered on that, recalling that first long night seated by Chris's side, talking to the unconscious man. He had never been the chatty type, though he had become far more talkative since joining Team 7. There was something about that group of men that drew his thoughts out into the open whereas, in the past, he had kept his comments and wisecracks to himself. All they had ever earned him was either pain or a reprimand. Or maybe he just seemed chattier because, in comparison, Chris barely said a word unless he had something important to say. Instead, Chris had a whole repertoire of glares, half-smiles and grins that answered most questions posed.

"Spent all night telling him I was there. Must have picked up on my name subconsciously."

"Maybe." However, Nathan did not seem entirely convinced. "We're here."

Vin looked around, confused as the hospital came in sight when they turned the corner, and only then realizing that he had paid scant attention to the passing streets as he thought of Chris Larabee.

"Thought we were heading to the office to see JD?"

"Ain't nothing you can say to him at the office that I can't say on a phone from here outside the hospital. So why don't you go on in and check on Chris while I make this call."

Vin smiled and slapped Nathan's thigh affectionately before he clambered out of the car. It took only a few long strides to reach the entrance and then he was inside and heading towards the bank of elevators. As he stepped out of the elevator on the ICU floor, a man slid past to enter it, keeping his face slightly averted. Vin looked back with a frown but the doors closed before he could make out the man's features. Unease gripped at him, quickening his steps as he strode towards the room where he had left Buck watching over Chris a few hours earlier. Vin spotted a police officer posted in the corridor outside Chris's room. He gave a quick nod, not wanting to waste any time in asking the officer if everything was okay as it was obvious from the man's slouched pose that he had not seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.

Still, Vin felt unease tickling the short hairs at the back of his neck and tingling down his spine. He stepped over the threshold and relaxed as Buck looked up at him in bleary surprise.

With his long legs stretched out in front of him, and crossed at the ankle, and the rest of his larger frame leaning back in the uncomfortable seat, Buck looked as if he had been sleeping for the most part. He grunted almost painfully as he sat up straight, muscles crackling as he stretched out the kinks in his long body.

"Been slow here?"

Buck grinned and smoothed his mustache. "Only in-between checks on Sleeping Beauty here."

Vin glanced at the bed, and swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. With his head turned against the pillow, hiding the bruising on the side of his face, and with the cover drawn up to disguise the heavy bandaging, Chris looked as if he had no place being in a hospital bed. His lips were slightly parted, with the fuller lower lip pouting softly. The rhythmic sound of the monitor beep mingled with his soft breathing, adding to the fairy tale impression Buck had created in Vin's mind. Chris was beautiful with his face so relaxed in sleep, and with his mussed golden hair spilling over his forehead.

"Vin?"

Vin blinked several times and looked across to see Buck grinning at him indulgently. He felt the slightest burn at being caught daydreaming while watching Chris sleep and quickly covered his embarrassment.

"Thinking 'bout that store in Purgatorio. There was a Colt Model P on display--"

"Chris's been looking for one of those for a while now. Saw one a few months back but it had the grips and trigger missing."

"This one was perfect... and a good price too."

"If Chris saw it then he'd have bought it. So, he mustn't have seen it."

"Or something happened in that store before he could buy it."

Buck leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees with his blue eyes fixed sharply on Vin. "You think something happened?"

"Store owner seemed a mite nervous when we started looking at that Colt an' asking if anyone else had been interested in it."

"Still don't mean Chris was in there... but get JD to run a check--"

"Already in hand."

Buck nodded, his eyes flicking back to the bed where Chris slept on peacefully. "Then we just have to wait and see what the Kid turns up."

"And if he finds nothing?"

"Then we send in Ezra." Buck sat back looking thoughtful. "But in the meantime, go back and get that Colt... I'll pay you back for it." He gave a lopsided grin. "Hate to see Chris lose that gun."

Vin smiled softly, recognizing the gruff affection for his longtime friend that Buck could not conceal. He nodded, and with one last look at the still sleeping man on the bed, Vin walked away, but he got as far as the threshold before he recalled the furtive man at the elevator.

"You seen or heard anything suspicious this morning?"

"One of the nurses seemed completely immune to my animal magnetism..." Buck waggled his eyebrows. "Just don't know what she's missing."

"Or maybe she does, an' that's why she--" Vin broke off and shook his head. "Nah... it's nothing. Getting a little jittery."

"You seen something to raise the hackles, Vin?"

"Not exactly... just an orderly acting a little strange is all."

"Jade..." Buck raised both eyebrows, "Nurse Evans... mentioned a little bit of thieving going on. Maybe he'd been helping himself to patients' private possessions."

Vin hummed noncommittally but had to admit that it made sense. Patients made easy targets for those with the light-fingered touch, and this would not be the first hospital to have problems with thefts of equipment and personal possessions. Still, Vin had no proof to offer in this instance beyond his innate sixth sense, and that counted for nothing in a court of law. He sighed deeply, aware that he would have to let it go for now.

"Ain't got no cause to mention it to hospital security... but maybe it's worth our keeping an eye out for this guy."

****

Miguel Martinez slipped out of the orderly's uniform and tossed it into a dirty clothes hamper in the staff washroom. He slicked back his hair and straightened his clothing before stepping out into the busy corridor and quickly blending into the flow of people walking between the different hospital departments. No one accosted him as he made his way out of the building, and he smiled smugly as a car drew up beside him, climbing into the passenger seat and sitting back as the car moved off.

"Well?"

"Seems our informant was right. Larabee took a blow to the head and cannot even recall his own name."

"Amnesia? But for how long?"

Martinez grinned. "Doctor's prognosis... indefinite."

"Which means?"

"It means we still have time to clean up this mess and move our operation while no one is any the wiser."

The driver flicked a look at his employer, holding an uneasy smile. "Your uncle called. Seems there was someone in the store today asking about that old shooter."

Martinez frowned, recalling the gun case standing next to Larabee that night and its contents. His uncle had been very enthusiastic about the old shooter and, according to his uncle, so had Larabee, though the ATF agent had hid it well.

"He describe the man?"

"Two men. One black and one white with shoulder-length brown hair."

Martinez frowned, recalling the man who had stepped out of the elevator onto the floor where Larabee was recovering. He realized that the matching description could not be a coincidence. Then he smiled. With no memory of what had happened to him, Larabee's associates could only blindly track their team leader's last known steps before meeting with his... accident. Even if they suspected foul play at his uncle's store, they had no proof, and in less than a week there would be nothing left for them to find. All he had to do was make sure Larabee never remembered what had happened, keep a low profile until the deal had gone through, and then disappear with the payment for his merchandise. He would not even have to change the location, as the deal had been set up at a remote airstrip east of Denver in the prairies, far enough away from the prying eyes of the ATF.

Martinez sly grin faded. It all sounded so easy but more than 60 hours had passed since the incident and he was nowhere close to silencing Larabee permanently. Apart from the police officer standing watch over the injured man, there was also Larabee's team to consider. They had made certain that one of them remained with Larabee at all times, making it impossible to approach Larabee without raising suspicion. Of course, nothing could prevent one of his men from stepping into that hospital and killing Larabee and whoever guarded him but that would severely defeat the object of keeping a low profile and set every ATF and Denver police officer on their trail hell-bent on revenge.

Instead, Martinez realized he would have to wait until they released Larabee from the hospital, and hope that the man did not regain his memory in the interim.

He thought back to the start of this debacle. It was just unfortunate that he had made a surprise visit on his uncle on the night Larabee came into the store, but even that should not have been a problem as he had remained in the back room, out of sight. However, one of his soldiers had not been so careful and Larabee had seen him.

Larabee's team had pulled in Alberto a couple of years earlier, and he had only recently been paroled. Perhaps if Alberto had kept his cool then his presence might have been explained away but the fool had pulled his piece. By doing so, he had violated his parole and committed a federal offense in one swift movement. Foolishly, Martinez had gone out to investigate the commotion upon hearing raised voices, concerned that someone had come into the store to rob his uncle, only hearing the words ATF as he stepped out into full view. Until that moment, he had never had any dealings with the Denver ATF -- good or bad -- but Alberto had looked to him for orders, allowing Larabee to make a connection between him and Alberto.

It had been too late to deny the association, and knowing he was outnumbered and out-gunned, Larabee had used the momentary distraction to make his escape, racing out of the store with Martinez' men hard on his tail. The single gunshot had been barely audible over the late night traffic and Martinez had thought his men had dealt with the problem of Chris Larabee until they came back with grave and fearful expressions. Instead, Larabee had slipped away into the shadows, leaving the whole deal under threat of discovery.

Martinez sighed. Alberto would not be causing him any more grief and as long as Larabee's memory remained lost then his business associates would not demand his own head as just payment for a deal gone sour. However, if Larabee should regain his memories, or if his team should make a solid connection that could place his arms deal in jeopardy, then Martinez would make certain that both Larabee and his Team 7 ceased to be a problem before he met his own demise.

****

**Three days later:**

At first, being unable to recall anything since the party his friends had thrown for him on the eve of him joining the Navy had been frustrating, and a little frightening, but now it had also become depressing. A man called Buck seemed to take great satisfaction in recounting times they had spent together chasing women and chasing bad guys but none of it seemed real for he had no memories to call upon. Instead, it sounded as if he was describing someone else's life, especially as he did not feel any inclination towards the pretty nurses that seemed to catch Buck's eye all too frequently.

If anything, Chris felt more attraction to the quiet, blue-eyed, long-haired younger man who held so much familiarity that it often became too painful to look at him. He knew this man, and he knew deep down inside that Vin was special in a way that no other person had been special to him in a long time. Therefore, unless this was all an elaborate scam with Vin and the other five men magnificent actors, then he knew they meant him no harm, and everything they said had to be the truth, even down to the amazing feats of devilry and bravery performed with Buck Wilmington.

But if everything Buck said was true, especially the lust for women, then why did he have such strong feelings for Vin Tanner? Why did the whole room light up for him whenever Vin appeared? And why did he feel so safe and so loved whenever Vin sat down beside him and looked into his eyes?

He knew that part of these feelings had to be the product of his amnesia, with him grasping hold of the one person whose face seemed familiar at a time when the whole world seemed out of kilter. In his head he was still that gangly youth on the cusp of manhood, saying goodbye to his childhood as he reached out to his future, but he only had to look in the mirror to see the toll of the years upon his face. There were lines where there had been smooth skin only a few days earlier in his mind. There were jagged scars with no memory of pain or injury. Even his hair was a darker blond than he could recall with a few strands of silver mingling with the fair within the sideburns, unnoticeable to most and yet so obvious to him.

Twenty-four years had passed like the flicker of a candle's flame, plunging his world into a darkness that had lasted only a single night to him and yet had stolen more than half of his life away.

Once they had moved him out of ICU and into a private room, the others had started telling him stories of his past in the hope of triggering some long forgotten memories but he did not know any of these men... and yet he trusted them. He frowned as he thought of each of them in turn, amazed at the differences between them though all seemed bound by a loyalty that ran deeper than any blood bond.

Ezra had regaled him with stories that seemed too amazing to be true and, judging by the way Vin would shake his head in disbelief, Chris had a strong feeling that the man had embellished them purely for *his* benefit. Still, Ezra's story-telling abilities made him forget his current predicament and, certainly, those stories and the card games relieved the boredom of staring at the blank beige walls surrounding him.

At other times he would listen to Josiah, letting the deep, melodic voice wash over him as Josiah read to him whatever came to hand; a book, a newspaper, a magazine or sometimes even a story from the small New Testament he carried in his breast pocket. He smiled softly as he recalled Buck's comment that, despite his apparent gentleness, Josiah could go 'Old Testament' when the need arose.

Nathan seemed to have a handle on all the medical terms bandied about him, explaining the damage to his body and the efforts being made to make certain he healed fully. He used his time to prod gently for Chris's misplaced memories, always knowing when he had pushed hard enough.

In contrast, JD just did not know when to stop, and Chris often felt like he needed a nap in a darkened room after one of JD's visits. The kid talked about every subject under the sun, from the latest blockbuster movies, games and music to the most detailed technical issues in this modern world. Of course, Chris's memory of home computers stopped somewhere around the ZX Spectrum, at a time when the 8-track had been hailed as one of the greatest advancements in music listening. However, Chris only had to look at the medical equipment surrounding him, and the advertisements on the television, to know that the modern miracles that JD spoke of so casually were a reality.

Lying alone in the dark, Chris tried to make sense of all his feelings, unsure if his innate trust of these men stemmed from softly stirring ripples of the past, or from his need to grab hold of any anchor to stop him from drifting any further in this sea of lost memories.

Then there was Vin.

How could he explain the strength of his feelings for this man? He knew his need for Vin lay beyond the security net offered by the faintest familiarity. He knew, deep down, that he had loved this man with a passion that went beyond friendship, accepting his gentle touches on his arm or hand or cheek with a tingling pleasure while shunning the physical contact of others.

The door opened silently, and Chris smiled in the darkness as he recognized the silhouette.

"Ain't asleep, Vin."

The softest exhalation of a laugh reached him, and then Vin pulled up the chair and sat down beside the bed. He reached for the switch to turn on the bedside lamp but Chris grasped his wrist.

"No. I like the dark." He swallowed hard. "Everything seems less..." Chris frowned, unsure how to describe how he felt with the soft cocoon of darkness wrapped around him. "Less..."

"Threatening?" Came the soft question, and Chris had to look away from the heavily shadowed face.

"Yeah."

Chris did not realize that he still held Vin's wrist until the warmth of Vin's other hand lay over his encircling fingers. He released his grip only for Vin to capture his hand and link their fingers.

"Were we..? Are we lovers?"

Vin's hand tightened a fraction then loosened enough that Chris thought he would let go, but fear of that loss made Chris increase his grip on the warm hand. Vin did not attempt to pull his hand away, so Chris relaxed.

"No. We ain't."

The possibilities circling inside Chris's head should have ended there but instead he sensed a nuance within the quietly spoken words, and he heard the slightest catch in Vin's throat that made the words echo with profound sadness. The silence stretched until Chris felt the need to answer the unspoken question.

"But we'd like to be," he stated gravelly.

Vin raised his head sharply, and Chris knew that even though the shadows robbed him of his sight of Vin's face, there was enough light reflecting from the world outside this room for Vin to read his expression clearly, and to see the truth of his words. Vin's response seemed husky and raw in the silence of the room.

"I won't lie an' say I ain't thought about it... 'bout us. But you..." He sighed and shook his head.

"All I know is how I feel right now... and it feels right."

Vin gave a small sardonic laugh. "You ain't in the best condition to judge what feels right, Chris. When your memories come back you might not--"

"If... not when. They might never come back."

"They will. Just a matter of time an' then..." He sighed softly as his words trailed off.

"And then what, Vin?"

Vin's voice dropped to a whisper. "An' then it might not feel so right anymore."

Chris was not certain how to answer that. All he had were the memories of his youth and those of the past few days to draw upon, and they showed no aversion to a deeper relationship developing between him and Vin. He could not believe that anything he learned of his life in those forgotten years could alter how he felt about Vin, not even Buck's stories of wild bygone days chasing women, for he had never paid much attention to gender in what little he could recall of his past.

For a moment, Chris wished he had allowed Vin to switch on the lamp so he could look deep into the blue eyes and let Vin clearly see the truth in his. He wished he could refute whatever event in those misplaced years had caused Vin to doubt him but the ghosts of his missing past refused to reveal themselves, causing him intense pain whenever he tried to force the memories. But what if Vin was right? What if he remembered something that made all these new feelings so very wrong?

"Then I hope I never get those memories back."

Vin raised his eyes at Chris's softly spoken words and squeezed Chris's fingers tightly for a moment before drawing his hand away completely.

"I want 'em back. Got a lot of investment in those memories, Chris. Good and bad."

"Bad?"

"Yeah. We seen a few bad times too... but they only made the good times better."

"Tell me about a bad time."

Vin fell silent for the longest time and Chris began to believe that he could not -- or would not -- tell him for there seemed to have been some silent pact between the others to tell him only about the good times they had shared.

"We was tracking this gunrunner... but the deal went sour and he made a run for it. Had an automatic... started spraying an' running without thinking." Vin fell silent and Chris waited for the rest with growing concern, knowing this had to be something that had affected the other man deeply. "Some little kids on bikes came out of nowhere... an' one of 'em got hit."

"Did he die?"

Vin nodded. "Died in your arms."

"How old was he?"

"Nine."

Chris swallowed hard as he tried to imagine this unknown kid cut down in a hail of bullets and dying in his arms but nothing came to him. Instead he felt an emptiness where there ought to have been despair.

"Sometimes... when I sleep... I dream I hear a dog snarling."

Vin laughed softly. "We've had our share of mad dogs... both the two and four-legged variety."

The gentle laughter rippled over Chris leaving him feeling warm and secure deep down inside, easing the lingering anxiety as he relaxed into the reassuring companionship flowing from this man. He listened as Vin told an amusing story concerning one particular dog and its mad owner. It had chased Ezra, snapping at his heels and tearing at the undercover agent's expensive cashmere coat. Although he had no memory of the event, Chris's imagination supplied a wonderful image of the well-dressed southerner running away in horror with some mangy dog right behind him.

"Damn thing wouldn't let go of Ezra's coat even after Ezra slipped out of it. Just went on snarling and tearing into it. Turned out its owner... a nasty piece called Shady Bill--"

"Great nickname."

"--had sprayed this stuff on the back of that coat that set the dog off." He smiled brightly.

"What happened to the dog?" Chris asked with a grin.

Vin sobered. "Last I heard they took him to the pound but I don't expect he stayed there long. Not much they can do to re-train an attack dog, 'specially one that gets triggered by scents. Never know when that programming is gonna kick in an' see some innocent person hurt."

Chris nodded, and offered Vin the ghost of a smile to reassure him that the dog's fate had not left him feeling too melancholy.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"It's yours."

Chris gave a half-smile. "I haven't said what I want yet."

"Don't matter. It's yours."

Chris looked away from the shadowed face feeling a little overwhelmed at the amount of trust and friendship displayed by this man when, as far as Chris's memory was concerned, they should be practically strangers. It was so easy to forget that the same was not true for Vin, and that Vin considered him a close friend; though deep down inside, Chris could sense echoes of that friendship coursing through him, and giving him the courage to ask for this favor.

"The Doc says I can leave here in a few days... as long as I'm not left on my own."

"I'll arrange a leave of absence an' come stay with you 'til the Doc gives you the all clear."

Chris relaxed back into the pillows, unaware until then that he had tensed up while asking for this favor. He let out a soft sigh and smiled.

"Thanks. Hate to stay here any longer than I need to."

"Didn't think the food was *that* bad," Vin grinned and changed the subject before Chris could mention how often Vin had finished off the hospital meals, especially the dessert. They alternated between talking quietly and sitting in silent companionship until the nurse arrived to chase Vin away once visiting hours had ended. despite this, Chris had a strong feeling that Vin had not gone far from his side even though the Judge has insisted on a police officer maintaining a guard just along the hallway while he remained in the hospital.

****

**Two Days Later:**

With his right arm immobilized -- bound tightly to his chest to restrict all movement -- and his leg unable to take enough of his weight, Chris found it frustrating as he tried to pack his meager possessions in the small duffel bag that Buck had dropped off last evening. He hissed in pain as he pushed in the final item, and then he began to struggle with the zipper, swearing when he could not push the separated sides together or maintain a good enough grip on the canvas to ease the zipper across.

"Need help wrangling that bag, Cowboy?"

Chris looked to the threshold where Vin leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb with his blue eyes sparkling with silent laughter. Morning sunlight striped across the handsome face, glinting off the shiny curls of hair that tumbled to his shoulders.

"You calling me a cowboy?"

"You got any objection?"

Chris stared at Vin for a moment, quietly considering Vin's words and the teasing sparkle in the blue eyes. For some reason he disliked anyone calling him a 'cowboy' and had a strong feeling that he would not have tolerated that nickname from anyone but Vin. A thought raced through him and he almost blushed in the aftermath, realizing that Vin could call him any name at all and he would have no objection as long as the name rolled off those perfect lips with the same teasing affection.

Shaking his head and swearing softly, Chris stepped back and lifted one hand towards the duffel to tell Vin he was welcome to 'wrangle the bag'.

As Vin slipped into the room, Chris could not help admiring the lean form in tight fitting faded blue denim and powder blue T-shirt. Muscles bunched and rippled at thigh and biceps as he crossed the room, displaying a sleek power contained within the athletic frame. Vin leaned over the bed, and that shoulder length, gently waved, light brown hair cascaded across his face as strong fingers made short work of zipping up the bag, giving Chris a momentary urge to reach out and see if those curls felt as soft as they looked.

A pleasant, though not entirely welcome, heaviness settled in his groin as his body reacted to the visual stimuli, grateful that his pants were nowhere near as tight as Vin's, and that the long over-shirt covered any evidence of his arousal. His body's reaction told him that these lust-filled thoughts for Vin were nothing new to him, though he had a feeling that he had never been open about those feelings in his missing past.

In truth, ever since that evening when he asked Vin exactly how close they had been before his 'accident', he had struggled with conflicting scenarios for why his feelings for Vin might be wrong. Over the course of these two days, he had dropped small questions into conversations about his family -- or lack of family, as no one had visited him outside of the small nucleus of work colleagues and a man proclaiming to be his employer.

According to them, he had no wife or children. They said he had a father and a brother but that he was estranged from them. Outside of these six men who formed part of what they called Team 7, Chris seemed to have no other close friends, and yet he did not see himself as the kind of person who could not form friendships on all levels. So why had he kept apart from others? Moreover, what had changed to grant these six men access to his heart?

He moved to one side and the brilliant sunlight flared across his eyes. An image flashed through him, and he grasped his head in his one good hand as a sense of intolerable heat and light burned into him, sending sparks of pain lancing into his skull.

"Fire," he gasped as he clutched at his head.

"What?"

"No... an explosion. Light, fire... glass... twisted metal."

He groaned and sank to the bed; eyes squeezed shut against the brilliant light that blinded him. He felt strong arms reach for him, stabilizing him as he felt his body swaying sideways. Brilliant white points of light danced behind his eyelids like tiny supernovas exploding inside his head, and Chris groaned as he felt his stomach flip though he managed not to heave. Other hands reached for him and eased him back onto the bed, and moments later, he cried out as someone forced one eyelid open and a bright light stabbed into him.

He cried out as blackness crept around the edges of his mind, slowly putting out all the bright lights until he slipped into total darkness.

It was dark when he awoke, with the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp. It took only a cursory examination to realize he was still in his hospital room and lying beneath the thin covers, clad in pajamas. The soft rustle of movement to one side made him turn his head and he sighed in remorse as he saw fatigue-filled eyes watching him. The eyes softened and a small smile played about the perfect lips that Chris had admired only a short while ago.

"What happened?"

"You had a kind of seizure." Vin reached out and grasped Chris's fingers, entwining them within his. "They sent you down to one of them fancy scanning machines -- but everything's fine. Nathan figures it was kind of like a bad migraine, an' the Doc said pretty much the same thing. He reckons it was down to that blow to you head, and the memories trying to reassert themselves."

"So I can still go home?"

Vin laughed softly. "Good try, Cowboy... but you know that ain't about to happen. Least not today."

His eyelids felt incredibly heavy, as if someone had drugged him and, as hard as he tried, he could not keep them open, reluctantly giving in to sleep but it seemed as if the dreams and nightmares started the moment he closed his eyes. Distant shores and strange people paraded through his mind but everything carried a ghostly hue and all the faces seemed featureless except for every now and then when the veil in his mind lifted for a moment.

Dark, obsidian eyes drilled into him, filled with fear and determination. Then he was running; hearing the dog snarl though its chain held it back; seeing the headlights flashing through the long alley go hurtling past, and creating a vortex of boxes of debris that spun and crashed around him as excruciating pain flared through him from back to front.

All fell silent and dark... and then he saw her. He saw the figure of a woman with her featureless face framed by tresses of autumn red and gold, singing a soft ballad in an Irish lilt while a small boy played at her feet, laughing softly as only a child can do.

A flash of bright light and a deep thunder heralded the rain of glass and twisted metal that scored his flesh.

'Papa!'

Chris awoke with a gasp to find it was morning, and the bright light was the sun shining through his window. He was alone with fragments of images that could have been memories or could have been scenes off a TV program for all he knew. When the nurse arrived and asked if he had slept well, he lied and said he had slept fine. Several hours later he had packed his bag once more and was waiting to leave the hospital, having made assurances that he would inform his doctor should he have any more seizures.

The ride from the hospital was beautiful, and Chris savored the fresh air once they had left the city of Denver behind. Vin turned off onto a smaller road that wound through a forest of aspen. He stopped at one curve on the road and beckoned Chris to leave the Jeep, leading him a short distance before stopping close to the edge. Laid out before Chris was an incredible vista.

"I live here?" He looked at Vin. "How did I get so lucky?"

Vin grinned. "No idea... just hoping I'll be just as lucky one day soon. Got my eye on a piece of land adjoining yours."

Chris could not help but smile at the infectious grin, loving the way it lit up the sky blue eyes. He took a deep breath of the clean air, savoring the scent of nature after spending too long cooped up with the smell of disinfectant and the lingering waft of the bland hospital meals and stale coffee. Despite a desire to stay right here, Chris could feel the pull of fatigue on his limbs, with the still healing thigh muscle aching from supporting his weight for too long. He turned and limped back to the Jeep, settling back into the passenger seat with a grimace as the ache became a stab of pain.

"You okay?"

"Leg aches."

"Well... we'll be at the ranch soon, and then you can put your leg up for a while."

Vin was true to his word and within ten minutes, they arrived at a beautifully kept ranch house. Chris stared at the building in both surprise and a measure of disappointment. According to Buck, he had lived here for over a decade so he had hoped the sight of the place would stir up his memories but he felt no recognition.

"Chris?"

"I kind of hoped..." His words trailed off with a resigned sigh. He dredged up a smile for Vin's sake, hoping to ease away the concern that had dulled the man's beautiful eyes, and then climbed down from the Jeep carefully and walked towards the door while Vin grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat. Deep in thought, he reached behind the large heart-shaped rock in the small rockery and pulled out the key, and then froze, staring down at the key in his hand. He looked back in time to watch a grin spread across the handsome face.

"See? Them memories ain't lost... just misplaced."

Chris laughed softly, and tightened his grip on the key, blinking rapidly to ease the sting of unshed tears that burned in his eyes. Until this moment, he had been terrified that he might never recall his missing past but this small key had given him hope that not all was lost.

"Now you got the key... are you gonna let us in?"

He gave another breathy laugh and quickly unlocked the door, determined not to get morose if he found no familiarity beyond the threshold, but his emotions wavered as he stepped into what felt like the home of a stranger. He took a deep calming breath and walked into the two-story ranch house, followed close behind by Vin. He came to a spacious front room and smiled at the warm atmosphere, knowing this room had seen plenty of happy times. He closed his eyes, trying to zero in on the sensation and, inside his head he thought he could hear voices and the sound of glasses clinking as the large screen television played on. The smell of popcorn assailed him but it all faded as soon as he opened his eyes. He turned to Vin.

"I think I know this room."

"You don't use it often. Reckon the last time was when all the boys were over to watch the game."

"Popcorn," Chris stated, recalling the aroma of fresh popcorn and melted butter.

Vin smiled. "Josiah always brings a mean chili, Buck an' JD bring the beers, Ezra usually brings something refined," Vin smirked at some memory and then continued. "Nathan brings the nachos and cheese... his one vice as he calls it... and I bring more beer and the popcorn. Can't watch a game without beer and popcorn."

"Do I like popcorn?"

"Hell, Larabee, we usually end up fighting over the bowl, 'specially if the Cowboys are winning," Vin grinned, "an' then you complain for weeks about finding popcorn all over the room."

The yawn caught Chris unawares. "Damn! Didn't realize I was so tired."

"Been a long day for you. What with you being used to getting a little extra beauty sleep mid-afternoon," Vin teased but the smirk fell away, replaced by concern. "Why don't you take a nap while I get some chores done around here."

Chris nodded and stepped back into the hallway. His heart twisted inside his chest when he realized he had no idea where he slept and he looked to Vin, grateful when Vin supplied instructions for finding his bedroom. He climbed the stairs slowly, holding tight to the handrail, and knowing Vin had not moved from the bottom of the staircase, ever watchful in case he should fall.

He felt nothing when he walked into his bedroom and, angrily, he wondered exactly what he had been expecting. A blinding flash of having hot sex with some willing body, perhaps? He sighed in frustration, aware that the only body he wanted lying with his -- hot, naked and demanding -- belonged to the man downstairs. Still, he had hoped for some small reaction to a room that he must have spent a lot of time in over the years. It just seemed a little strange that he could feel so much warmth and companionship radiating from the room downstairs and yet this room, that ought to be so much more intimate, seemed cold and impersonal to him.

He had an impulse to go back downstairs and make sure he had heard the directions correctly, but the room had all the signs of having been in use with a suit jacket casually draped over a chair back, and a pair of scuffed boots -- in his size -- standing by the door.

A doorway led to a private bathroom that had toiletries lying openly on the shelf: a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste and other sundry items. It was a man's bathroom, displaying nothing feminine. No flowery tiles or bath mats, and no female accessories or toiletries. He walked over and picked up the razor, twisting the familiar weight between his thumb and fingers for a moment before replacing it on the ceramic shelf. Unconsciously, he rubbed his stubbled cheek as he stared at his reflection in the large mirror standing above the washbasin. Buck had brought in an electric razor for him to use at the hospital but Chris had a feeling that he preferred the closeness of a hand shave.

That thought annoyed him. He no longer had any idea what he might like or dislike, recalling only those preferences from his youth. Did he have a 'new' favorite film or book? Did he still like the same music? The same food? The same drinks?

Who was he now?

He looked closer at his reflection, still shocked by the lines around his eyes and the furrows on his forehead... and the gauntness of his face where he could recall the plumpness of youth. He shook his head in dismay as he thought of the man downstairs, wondering how he could have the gall to make a pass at Vin when he looked so old.

_It's just a matter of perception._

He heard Josiah's warm voice in his head, trying to reassure him that it was just the shock of seeing his face aged more than twenty years compared to his memories. In truth, he was not much older than Vin but those years just seemed so much greater because he was expecting to see the face from his youth staring back at him, still half-believing he was a decade younger than Vin rather than older.

In a fit of anger, he slammed his palm against the mirror, only just pulling back on his strength in time to prevent the mirror from cracking. He turned away from his reflection and went back to the bedroom, sitting on the side of the bed while he toed off his shoes and then slipped out of his denim jacket, leaving it on the end of the bed. Then he lay back on the mattress carefully, favoring his immobilized arm, the still sore shoulder and his aching thigh. Despite his intention of just laying back and thinking, he fell asleep almost immediately... and dreamed of Vin...

****

It was a bright summer's day with the sun beating down. The land shimmered with the rising heat as if to seduce its celestial lover and bring a halt to the eternal journey of the sun towards the distant horizon. As Chris walked towards the stable, small clouds of dust billowed at his bare feet, suspended in the stillness of the heated air as if by some trickery. Ahead of him stood the corral fence, and leaning against it was a handsome man with sky blue, come-hither eyes and a brilliant, ready smile. Droplets of sweat trickled down the naked, lean torso, winding their way through the sparse dark chest curls.

He reached Vin and stretched out a finger to catch a single droplet of sweat as it coursed down a pectoral, bringing it back to his lips to taste the heady mixture of salt and sweat. Vin reached for him, folding him into strong arms, his lips descending upon his throat, suckling and biting as his hands moved up Chris's torso to the tops of his shoulders. Vin pulled back, smiling enigmatically as he added pressure, encouraging Chris to drop to his knees before him. Deftly, Vin unbuttoned his jeans and released his hard erection, his fingers caressing the silken-steel shaft and playing with the tip to smear the evidence of his arousal. Chris leaned forward, breathing in deeply the scent of Vin's arousal before lapping at the lazy fingers and glistening head until Vin's hands moved aside to softly stroke Chris's cheek as he urged Chris to go down on him. He moaned in his soft gravel voice as Chris obeyed, sucking greedily, with fingers reaching round to dig into Vin's firm, denim-clad ass as he drew Vin's climax from him.

Creamy, bittersweet juices flowed into his mouth, coating his tongue and palate, and he swallowed the offering, pulling back only once Vin was empty to lap at the last spilled droplets of cum, ending with a hedonistic smack of his lips. Vin dropped to his knees, hip to hip, chest to chest, slowly forcing Chris backwards until he lay back in the thick layers of fine dust, his hand reaching to cup the back of Vin's head, drawing him down to share his sweet reward. Soft curls of auburn hair tickled at his throat, against his cheek, as the firm lips pressed against his. Impudently, Chris pushed past the closed lips, tongue seeking the inner reaches of Vin's mouth, tasting the full essence of this longed for lover, melting into the perfection of their first kiss.

He whimpered in loss as Vin pulled away from him... "Chris? Chris?" ...and savagely drew Vin back, sealing their lips and moaning incoherently as he strove to recapture the sweet taste of this man.

"Chris!" Vin muffled against him, breathing his name into Chris's mouth as a moan of pleasure and concern combined.

Chris stared up into the desire and fear-darkened eyes... and the four walls of the bedroom swam back into place, cutting out the summer blue sky and the heat of the hot, yellow sun. His eyes dropped to Vin's kiss-swollen lips, embarrassingly aware that his dream and reality had merged, and then despairing that he could no longer taste Vin's essence.

****

Vin pulled back from the bed, trying not to be too obvious as he adjusted his tight jeans to ease the discomfort of his full arousal, with his lips still tingling from the passion and pleasure of Chris's against his. Automatically, his eyes sought out the damaged shoulder, hoping he had not hurt Chris as he tried to extricate himself from the powerful, one-handed embrace.

"You okay?"

Chris looked shell-shocked for a moment, and then his skin flushed from his cheeks to the curved tips of his ears.

"I'm sorry... I-I... was dreaming."

Vin sat back on his heels beside the bed and his eyebrows rose; he aimed for levity to break the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding them. "Must have been a good one. Anyone I know?"

"You 'could' say that." Chris looked away in embarrassment, but then his expression tightened and he turned back. "It was you, Vin."

It was Vin's turn to look away, unable to hold the beautiful soft green eyes in case he succumbed to the desire darkening them, or to the passion still coursing through his veins like liquid fire. He had wanted this man from the moment he first saw him through his rifle sight, standing on the floor of a warehouse; having just saved him from a sniper's bullet after the bounty Vin had been hunting had walked into that ATF trap on the wrong side of the law.

Instead of caving into his desire, he had buried it as deep as possible when he realized he loved Chris and needed his friendship perhaps even more than he needed the physical completion of sex. Just being with Chris, talking with him, riding with him, drinking, watching football, and working beside him was intoxicating, and Vin had no intention of giving all of that up in this one moment of vulnerability.

Even as he pulled away, though, Vin could not deny that he had dreamed of this moment, fantasized over the taste of Chris's sweet mouth, of being in his arms... of being IN Chris, but he had no illusions. Chris had never openly shown a preference for same sex intercourse, and he had been dating Mary Travis for the past year, so taking advantage of the man's confusion would eventually backfire on him -- just as soon as Chris regained his memory. He could not do that for fear of risking everything that made his life worth living in these past two years; losing the one friendship that he coveted above all else.

"Chris... Mary will be here in a few days."

"Mary?"

"She's been on assignment in Africa these past two weeks, out of reach... but she's heading home."

"I don't understand."

"You and her... well... you've been dating her on an' off for a year now, an' I suppose some people have been kind of expecting you both to make an announcement some time soon."

Vin watched as an expression of horror crossed the finely chiseled face, robbing the features of the soft golden glow that had infused Chris only moments before.

"I don't love her."

"You can't say that, Chris. She's a beautiful woman, and you don't even remember her... yet."

"That's my point, Vin. If I can remember *you*, and can feel this way about you, then surely I'd remember someone I'm supposed to be in love with?"

"Buck's your oldest friend... and you love him, but you don't remember him neither," Vin shot back.

Chris dragged a hand through his sleep-mussed blond hair. "That's different... and you know it. I'm not *in love* with Buck." His eyes held an earnest expression. "But I am in love with you." Chris's voice lowered. "All I know right now is that I love you... and want you. And I know you want me too."

"You don't know what you saying. You don't know me. Hell... you don't even know yourself right now."

He saw Chris wince at those words as if Vin had struck a physical blow, and then the soft, kiss-ripened lips pursed.

"Are you so sure about that? Maybe *this* is who I am. Maybe the Chris you knew before was too wrapped up in his life, or too afraid to take a chance of saying how he felt about you. Maybe losing my memory has stripped away all those layers of pretense and what you see here is the truth. The real Chris Larabee."

Vin felt his heart skip a beat inside his chest as he wished with all his might that it could be true, but then reality set in once more.

"An' maybe all those memories will come flooding back an' then you'll regret anything we do about these feelings of yours." Vin swallowed hard. "What happens then? Do we just pretend I never let you convince me to fuck you through the bed?" Vin touched his lips. "Do I pretend you never kissed me like you was giving life to a drowning man?"

Vin looked away, disturbed by his last words. He had not wanted to remind Chris of that soul-searing kiss, hoping that he would quickly forget that wondrous moment in the heat of this denial. They had to forget that kiss if there was to be any chance of them recovering their former platonic relationship, though Vin knew that it would be impossible on his part. He knew that kiss would fuel his fantasies forever, no longer certain if *he* could go back to the way things had once been between them now that he had tasted this man that he had desired for so long.

"I don't want you to pretend... or forget," Chris whispered hoarsely in response. "I know I won't."

Vin could hear an edge of bitterness creep into the soft voice, knowing his own thoughts paralleled Chris's declaration. He closed his eyes in dismay, wishing he had never granted Chris this favor of staying with him after that previous declaration in the hospital. It would have been far better if it had been one of the others, but the damage was done now and all he could hope was that this memory would fade into insignificance once Chris's misplaced memories reasserted themselves.

He changed the subject, not wanting to continue with this in case it led to even greater bitterness or resentment. He had to believe that they could go back to the friendship they had known before.

"I made us lunch. That's why I came up here to wake you.." And fell under your spell, he added silently, recalling the intense beauty of this man as he slept, with rays of sunlight caressing his angelic face and turning his hair to burnished gold. In hindsight, Vin wished he had not given into the temptation to kneel down beside the sleeping man, and to lean in so close that he could have stolen a kiss. Instead, Chris had sensed his presence even in sleep, pulling him down to share that perfect embrace.

Sighing, he climbed to his feet and offered a hand to the man still lying on the bed. He helped to lever Chris into a seated position. Perhaps it was a reaction to that kiss, or to the desire that sparked between them, but the feel of Chris's flesh against his had been electrifying. Fighting hard to control the trembling in his body, Vin turned and walked away before he could betray his desperate need to his friend. He went downstairs and sat at the breakfast bar, toying with the sandwich he had prepared while he waited for Chris to settle in the seat opposite. His appetite seemed to have deserted him, and judging by the few bites that Chris took of his sandwich, he knew that he was not alone there.

"I need to go check on the horses."

"I have horses?"

"Technically, you just got the one horse. Other one's mine... but you let me keep him here, seeing's how I ain't got any land of my own just yet."

"You mind if I go with you?"

"It's your home, Chris. You can go any place here you want."

Chris nodded slowly, and after making an attempt at a few more bites of the sandwich, he followed Vin out the back door. Vin carried on walking towards the stable but Chris froze, recognizing the scene before him from his dream. He swallowed hard, recalling how Vin had been leaning against the corral fence, bare-chested, and the power of his dream flooded back, bringing him hard and wanting within seconds. Chris closed his eyes and forced the dream aside, focusing instead on the reality that lay ahead of him.

In the corral, Chris could see two magnificent looking horses, and he noticed the way their ears pricked up as they caught sight of him. One in particular began to trot backwards and forwards along the length of the fence, ears high and head firmly raised. As Chris approached, the horse came over towards him, snorting softly.

Tentatively, Chris reached out to stroke the thickly muscled neck and then scratch just behind the horse's ear. "You like that?"

The other horse seemed more spirited and if he had been human, Chris would have sworn the horse was cross with him.

"Don't mind him," said Vin. "He's just ornery 'cause he figured you'd gone off and left him."

"Is he mine?"

"Nah... he's mine, though I get the feeling he reckons he's the one doing the owning... of both of us."

Chris settled on a bale of hay in the stable and watched Vin bring in and settle the horses, covertly admiring the grace and dexterity of his friend as Vin refilled the water and feed troughs. If Vin noticed then he made no mention of this to his silent observer. A short while later they headed back to the house together with Chris honoring the unspoken request to speak no more of his feelings for Vin, for if those feelings were as true as he believed them to be, then they would still be there after he had regained his memories.

****

His dreams that night did not hold the welcoming presence of Vin Tanner. Instead, they mirrored the terrible heart-felt pain and shock of the waking nightmare he had suffered at the hospital, interspersed with images of the softly singing woman and the excited child who called him 'Papa'. He felt the force of the blast lifting him off his feet, hurling him backwards, suspending him in time and space for an eternity before he crashed down to earth like Icarus falling from the Sun. Excruciating pain expanded throughout his body, shaking him like a rag doll...

He awoke to the feel of a strong hand shaking his uninjured shoulder. The muted glow of the bedside lamp provided the only illumination in the night-darkened room and the terrible images of death and destruction, of burned and twisted metal, and of spinning shards of glass, faded as Vin anchored him to reality with the strength of his hand and the concern in his eyes. He glanced sideways to the bedside clock, rubbing one hand over his eyes as he registered the time. There could only be an hour before daybreak.

"There was a woman in my dreams... and a little boy." Chris focused hard on the face close to his. "Why did he call me Papa?"

Vin sat back on the chair by the bed. "I'd figured it would be best to wait 'til you had a night's rest, an' let Buck be the one to tell you about them."

"So they're real?" Vin nodded. "Tell me now, Vin. I need to know."

Vin stared at him hard though he seemed to be looking straight through Chris as he wrestled with the request. He chewed nervously on his lower lip.

"Sarah... and Adam. She was your wife, an' he was your little boy. It all happened before I knew you.... before you started Team 7."

"Where are they?"

Vin seemed reluctant to answer, and Chris wondered if the younger man was toying with the idea of lying to him, but then he sat up straighter.

"They were killed four years ago... in a car bomb that was meant for you."

Chris stared hard at Vin for a moment, seeing the terrible truth reflected in compassion-filled eyes. He looked down at the bed cover, unsure of how he felt at this revelation. "I was there at the time... wasn't I?" He raised his eyes and searched Vin's for confirmation, and found it. "Are there any photos of them?"

Vin stood up and moved to one of the closets, opening the door and reaching up to a high shelf. He pulled out an album and brought it back to the bed, laying the album down on the cover beside Chris. With trembling fingers, Chris opened it to the first page, and gasped as he saw the woman from his nightmare. A single finger touched her face and profound sadness filled him as he traced over the curls of rich auburn hair that he recalled from his dream. He turned the page and found pictures of a happy family, gasping as a sharp pain sliced through his head.

He pushed the heel of his hand into his forehead as the memories tried to push through the wall in his mind, hearing Vin's frantic calls but unable to answer them as shards of memory pierced him... and then he knew her, and he knew Adam.

He opened his eyes. "No!" Chris fought to take control of his ragged breathing, his hand reaching out to stop Vin. "No. I'm all right now." He could read the uncertainty in the fear-filled eyes. "Vin. I remember her. I remember Sarah and Adam."

Slowly, Vin replaced the phone. "Do you remember everything? Buck? Mary?"

Chris frowned. "Buck... I can remember Buck standing with me on my wedding day... and he was there the night Adam was born... and the night he died." Chris reached out and touched Vin's arm. "Is this why you thought my feelings for you would change? Because of Sarah and Adam... and what they meant to me?"

"They were you life, Chris. A beautiful woman that you loved with--"

"Love. That's the key word, Vin. I loved her with all my heart. Gender never came into it."

"What about Mary?"

"I remember a warehouse. I remember *you*... saving my life." Chris hissed in pain as he tried to bring back the fading image that danced on the outer edges of his mind. "Remember thinking I must have died and gone to heaven when I looked up into the rafters and saw you. I thought you were an angel."

Vin snorted at Chris's smooth words but he looked uncomfortable, as if Chris had told him this before and yet he had only just registered the true meaning behind them. "What about Mary?" He insisted. "Do you remember her now?"

Chris shook his head. "No," he replied softly. "Because I don't love her. I loved Sarah... and I love you."

"Chris--" Vin looked ready to argue with him but then he fell silent, his head lifting high as his eyes became unfocused. Chris caught the light clink of sound from outside and frowned.

"Horses? Coyotes?"

"No. Two-legged vermin."

"One of the others, perhaps." However, Chris could see concern in Vin's eyes, his own sixth sense for danger starting to kick in as well. Chris lifted the handset but there was no dialing tone; someone had cut the phone line. "Damn."

He placed it back in its cradle quietly and pointed to his denim jacket that had fallen to the floor while he slept. "Cell phone."

Vin grabbed the jacket and fumbled through the pockets until he located the phone. He hit one of the speed dial buttons with a familiarity that spoke volumes to Chris, proving that Vin had used his cell phone many times in the past.

"Buck. We got company out here."

Vin disconnected the call for they both knew it would be pointless staying on the line. Buck and the others were at least thirty minutes away by road so he and Vin had to figure out a way to stay alive until the cavalry arrived.

"Chris, I need you to stay low while I--"

"Must have a spare gun around here. I can back you--"

"No!" He exclaimed softly. "You got a spare in the drawer there but you staying here. Ain't got time to argue, an' I don't need to be worrying about you.." His eyes bore into Chris. "With you shoulder an' you leg injured, you can only slow me down an' get us both killed."

Chris bit hard into his inner cheek, hating the fact that Vin was right. In his current state, he would be a danger to them both. It was better that he stay put and barricade himself into this room, using the gun as a last resort to protect himself should their assailants get by Vin.

"All right," he said softly. "I'll stay here. Now go... before we both get trapped in here."

Vin smiled and gave a single nod as he reached for the SIG he had kept in a holster behind his back, making Chris all too aware that Vin must have been expecting trouble, for why else would he be carrying the gun around the ranch. As quietly as he could, Chris pulled the gun out of the bedside drawer and loaded the bullets, not stopping to consider how he knew how to do this, and he nodded back as Vin slipped out of the bedroom into the darkened hallway beyond.

Chris glanced at the bathroom. It offered the greatest chance of protection from a direct assault but it could also be a death trap for the only way out would be through this room. A quick glance around the bedroom made him realize he would do better to stand his ground by the window, keeping his back to the wall and using the large, solid wood blanket box as a barricade. He knew he would have to risk moving the box into a better position and strained to ease it around as quietly as possible, flinching every time the boards creaked beneath the shifting weight of the box.

Looking across the room, he noticed the photo album still lying open on the bed and he grabbed it, placing it on the floor behind him beside the window in a desperate hope of keeping those memories safe.

He settled in behind the blanket box as best he could, gun ready... and waited.

****

Vin kept to the shadows as he made his way along the hallway to the top of the stairs. He listened hard for soft footfalls on the ground level, differentiating between at least two sets. Someone was walking across the kitchen, their shoes clicking lightly upon the hard tiles, while at least one other person shuffled along the short-piled carpet in the lower hallway. He could hear the sound of fingers dragging along the wall as the intruder made his way towards the stairs in the darkness of the unfamiliar hallway.

Stealthily, Vin holstered his gun and pulled his knife from its sheath, and then he waited, knowing he would give away both his presence and his position if he took a step onto the creaky stairs. He pulled back into the deeper shadows of the doorway to the guest bedroom as the moonlight pouring through the front door window silhouetted the intruder for a moment. Each step had its own distinctive squeak or creak, letting him know how far the man had walked up the staircase.

As the man stepped past the doorway, Vin brought the handle of the knife down hard on the man's head, catching him before he could fall, and then he dragged the man into the guest room. He used the electrical cord from the lamp to secure the unconscious man, with a pair of his socks balled up as an effective gag. He paused by the doorway, pulling back sharply when he realized someone else was already on this floor, and approaching Chris's bedroom from the opposite end of the house. The man had to have come through one of the other bedroom windows else Vin would have heard him on the stairs. He cursed under his breath for not ensuring that all the windows were secure. Another creak on the stairs made him curse again as it meant there were still at least two intruders left in the house -- and possibly more.

The sharp retort of a gun echoed in the stillness of the ranch house, bringing *two* more sets of feet racing up from below and despite a frantic desire to race along the short corridor to the bedroom where he had told Chris to stay, Vin knew he had to wait until these men had passed by.

Vin could hear no other feet so he knew that the attackers must have numbered four. He grabbed the second man as he raced past the doorway, flinching as more gunfire erupted from Chris's room. There was no time for niceties now that Chris was in mortal danger so he dragged the razor sharp blade across the man's windpipe, silencing him permanently, just as the army had taught him. He pulled his gun and raced on behind the other man in time to see him dive inside the bedroom.

More gunfire set Vin's heart beating frantically with fear until he heard the distinctive sound of Chris's back-up gun.

"Bastard!" An unfamiliar voice growled angrily from inside the room. "Burn the bastard out."

Vin reached the threshold in time to see a lighter flare into life and ignite a piece of cloth held in one man's hand. The wardrobe kept the man out of Chris's line of fire but illuminated him for Vin to see with ease. A single shot found its mark, piercing the man's heart, and he dropped to the carpet, the cloth fluttering down with him, the flames leaping out to catch at the bed covers.

Now aware of the attack from behind, the final attacker spun round and fired at Vin, the bullet ricocheting off the door frame as Vin ducked back. Caught between Chris, the fire and Vin, the man bellowed and charged for the doorway, firing wildly and leaping to tackle Vin. The force of a body striking him sent Vin reeling backwards, his head slamming off the wall opposite and sending him spiraling into darkness.

****

Earlier:

Chris fired as soon as the first man came through the bedroom door, knowing instinctively that this was no friend. The man dived, the bullet drilling into the plaster behind him. He came up behind the protective screening of the wardrobe, cursing loudly as Chris fired at the darkened mass that had to be the man's head when the intruder took a quick look. The bullet tore large splinters out of the wardrobe, and then it was Chris's turn to take cover as the man fired back. He heard the shots thud into the blanket box and did not risk raising his head until the other gun fell silent. He could hear the pounding of footsteps on the stairs, knowing reinforcements were on their way but all too aware that they would not be on his side.

Anxious thoughts filled him as he listened for Vin, an icy claw clutching at his chest when he heard no gunfire outside the room, suddenly fearful that their attackers had caught and killed Vin. Ruthlessly, he shoved those thoughts aside, the very silence giving him reassurance that the other man was alive and waiting for a better opportunity to strike out at the intruders.

More gunfire erupted from the doorway as a second man leapt into the room and Chris fired back, baring his teeth in pleasure at the unmistakable sound of pain.

"Bastard! Burn the bastard out."

A flare of light from behind the safety of the wardrobe filled Chris with concern, his head jerking to the window behind him, silently thanking whatever innate sense had told him to seek cover out here rather than barricade himself into the bathroom.

A single shot came from outside the room and Chris watched as the first attacker fell from behind the wardrobe, the burning rag falling with him, and igniting the bed covers. All too quickly, the fire caught hold, racing along the bed towards him with fiery fingers reaching out to grasp anything flammable.

Vin, he thought, thankful that his friend was still alive but his relief was short-lived as the remaining attacker gave a yell and charged out of the room, blazing a path with his gun. He saw the man's shape through the rising flames but could do nothing to help as Vin fell backwards, having already spent his last bullet.

"Vin!"

Chris dropped the now useless gun and pushed to his feet uneasily, trying to keep the weight off his leg. Billowing plumes of smoke thickened the air, making it hard to breathe as Chris crawled over the top of the blanket box, determined to run the gauntlet of flames to reach Vin. He dropped to his knees as the fire stole the oxygen from the air, leaving him inhaling smoke.

Dark figures raced into the room and Chris fell forward in despair, knowing he did not have the strength to ward off another attack. He felt arms reach for him, kicking out feebly as a large figure hefted him over a broad shoulder, only coming to his senses when the man set him down on the ground outside -- next to Vin. He looked up at the man turning away from him to look back at the house.

"Josiah?" Chris gasped as he tried to replace the smoke in his lungs with clean air.

"Easy, Chris."

Chris turned his full attention to the man lying beside him and groaning softly. When Chris touched Vin's warm cheek, he saw Vin reach up to touch the back of his head tentatively. Vin hissed and drew his hand back, and Chris winced as he saw the blood coating the fingers.

"Vin? You okay?"

"Yeah... a little banged up is all. What happened?"

"Cavalry arrived," stated Chris with a weak grin for Josiah.

They all looked up as a second police helicopter flew overhead with its bright search light illuminating the ground around the ranch as it came in to land. Chris whipped up his good arm to shield his eyes as the downdraft from the blades lifted clouds of dust, barely making out two forms leaping from the interior and racing towards them as the helicopter lifted and arced away. Its presence answered Chris's unspoken question, explaining how the cavalry had arrived so swiftly.

"Nathan and Ezra are on their way, and I need to get back inside and help Buck and JD before that fire gets out of control." Josiah rushed back towards the ranch house.

Chris spared a moment to watch him go and then turned to see Nathan and Ezra crossing the clearing quickly, with heads held low as the helicopter hovered above them. They dropped down in front of Chris and Vin and, pulling a small oxygen canister from the large field kit, Nathan placed the mask over Chris's face.

"Breathe deep and slow." Confident hands roamed over Chris's body while Ezra kept a flashlight focused on him. Chris shook his head in answer to Nathan's questions, knowing he had been lucky tonight. "Keep the mask on while I check out Vin."

The flashlight's illumination moved across to Vin and Chris watched in concern as Nathan probed the back of Vin's head. He checked Vin's pupil reaction and Chris could see the slightly sluggish dilation.

"That gash might need a stitch or two... an' I reckon you've got a mild concussion."

"Ain't going to the hospital--"

"Ain't giving you no choice, Vin." Chris lowered his face to hide his smirk. "An' you ain't got no call to look smug, Chris. Want you back there too. Smoke inhalation on top of a recent head injury ain't nothing to be fooling around with."

Nathan pulled a radio from his jacket and looked up as he spoke into it. Moments later the Police helicopter reappeared from where it had been circling the area while keeping a lookout for any further danger. Nathan pulled open his jacket to act as a shield protecting both Chris and Vin as the helicopter landed close by. Nathan and Ezra assisted him to his feet and across the open ground, helping him clamber into the helicopter, and then they returned for Vin. As soon as they had strapped in Vin, Nathan climbed onboard and donned a radio headset, giving the 'okay' to lift off. As they climbed above the ranch, Chris looked down but could see no glow of a fire illuminating the darkness at the back of the house where his room lay and he hoped that meant his friends had managed to put out the fire before it consumed his barely remembered home.

****

**Five Hours Later:**

Vin hissed as, gingerly, he touched the bandage covering the gash on his head. The doctors had kept him and Chris under observation in the hospital ER since arriving by helicopter and they had released them barely a half an hour earlier. Apart from his splitting headache, they were both fine -- or as fine as they could be under the circumstances -- though he knew it was fortunate that Buck, JD and Josiah had arrived when they did or they might both be dead. Buck had tackled the man who had brought Vin down, and then carried Vin out of the house while Josiah went into the bedroom in search of Chris.

JD had raced back downstairs and brought up the fire extinguisher kept just inside the kitchen door in case of an emergency, managing to put out most of the fire before the container emptied. Buck and Josiah had returned to stamp out the last of the flames, before dousing the smoldering remains with water from the bathroom. Vin hated to imagine what the bedroom must look like, but it was better to lose just the one room rather than the whole house especially as it would have needed redecorating anyway, to remove all the bullet holes from the gun battle.

The short ride from the hospital took them to the ATF building where Chris would be far safer while Buck and Josiah interrogated the two men they had captured last night in the hope of discovering who was behind the hit on Chris. Vin looked across at his friend and boss as they rode the elevator in silence, seeing the signs of pain and exhaustion line the still-handsome face. The doors opened at their floor and, pushing away from the wall of the elevator car, Vin stepped out followed closely by Chris. He showed Chris into his office and waited patiently, watching for any sign of recognition as Chris's fingers draped over the back of the chair and then across the polished work surface of the desk. He saw Chris lift a paperweight and frown questioningly at the strange design inside.

"Anything?"

Chris sat down in the chair and stared across the almost familiar room but then shook his head slowly in exasperation.

"What the hell happened to me that night, Vin? Why does someone want me dead?"

Vin leaned against a filing cabinet. "We're still trying to figure that out. Our only possible lead was a guy named Geordie Wilkes. Unfortunately, he turned up dead in a dumpster on the other side of Denver. We're still checking out another angle but it's looking more an' more like you saw something you shouldn't have that night."

"What's the other angle you're working?"

"There's a store a couple of blocks from my place, an' Buck thinks you might have stopped there to check on something."

"But?"

"Tried all our snitches... but no one's got anything to say. Checked all the store's paperwork an' it's all legit, an' always has been. Ezra went in... nada. The man's clean."

"Connections?"

Vin shook his head. "Had a nephew who was killed in some gun running operation several years back, but no illegal connection was ever made between the two. Seems Mr. Martinez kept well away from his nephew's dealings."

"Who took the nephew down?"

"Know what you're thinking... but it weren't you. Happened in Miami."

"Get me the paperwork anyway. Maybe it'll trigger some memory."

Vin nodded and left the office but he turned back on impulse and watched as Chris pushed the switch to boot up his desktop PC. The login screen came up and Chris stared at it, not even attempting to give an ID and password. He shook his head forlornly as Chris reached out and switched the machine off, then turned away to see if he could get hold of the paperwork on Martinez and his deceased nephew.

****

Diego pursed his lips as he watched Larabee and Tanner arrive at the ATF building. An hour later, his contact within the ATF Records department advised him that Larabee had requested the case files on his employer, Miguel Martinez, and there could be only one reason why.

Larabee must have regained his memory... and that meant he *had* to die before his men could track down Diego's employer and ruin the deal that was scheduled to take place tomorrow.

He grimaced as he thought of the missed opportunity early this morning. He and Martinez had severely underestimated Larabee and his men, believing Larabee would be an easy target with just a single member of his team there to protect him. Instead, two of their hired guns were dead with the other two in the hands of the ATF, probably being interrogated at this moment.

Fortunately, Diego had the good sense to hire men who knew nothing of the armaments shipment. If they could just keep their mouths shut long enough then all might still go to plan, and he and Martinez would be out of the country by this time tomorrow. However, Diego's main concern now was that the ATF agents would track down associates of these men who, in turn, would lead them to him and Martinez.

He could not allow that to happen for too much was riding on this deal. It had taken several months of planning and of making the right connections to set it up in the first place, and several years of waiting after the initial deal soured. However, this new deal was far sweeter, worth over six million dollars to him alone. If the transaction went smoothly then he would spend the rest of his life living in luxury in the Bahamas.

This time, Diego would leave nothing to chance. He would do the job himself and take Larabee and his men out of the game permanently. He knew of only one way to do that. To lure the ATF agents into a trap by passing false information onto the streets where one of their snitches would pick it up and pass it on. With a sly grin he started the engine and drove off, already planning where Larabee would meet his tragic end.

****

The hours passed by so slowly that Chris became convinced that someone had quadrupled the number of seconds in each minute. He could think of no other reason for why the digits on the clock changed so infrequently and even reading all the information JD had gathered about Miguel Martinez had not helped any. He stared at the picture of the man once more but felt no ripple of recognition. He slammed the old surveillance photo down in disgust, wondering why the others even bothered to bring him up to speed. With his injuries, he would not be leaving this desk any time soon, and it bothered him how much that mattered, but then, even in his youth, he had always been in the thick of the action. He had never been one to stand on the sidelines watching when he could be a player, and this character trait had guided his choice of the Navy as a career. In particular, he had been determined to become a Navy SEAL and, according to Buck, he had reached that goal and earned an excellent personnel record from his military actions.

He recalled the images of exotic places that tumbled through his head, wondering whether he had seen these amazing sights during his time in the Navy, or if he had traveled extensively afterwards. Or maybe he had taken a subscription to the Travel shows on cable, he thought morosely. No. He had been to some of those exotic locations as he could almost taste, touch and smell them too, and those senses could not come from a TV show.

"Chris? You all right?"

He looked up to see Vin on the threshold of his office -- an office he could not recall until that very moment when an intense pain stabbed through him, flashing an image of Vin standing there wearing different clothing, with a broad smile plastered across his handsome face. Chris doubled over in his seat as the pain rocked through him.

"Chris!" Vin strode to his side and knelt down beside him, his warm hand alighting on Chris's back in a tender gesture.

"It's okay... just another flashback."

Chris looked into the concerned blue eyes, and then he took another glance around the office, eyes widening as other memories returned. He turned to his computer, pushed the power-on button and then, fixing his eyes on the monitor and ignoring the pain from his shoulder, he let his fingers walk the keyboard. The concealed characters filled the password box. He selected the login button and grinned as it accepted the password as genuine. When he looked back at Vin, he found the sapphire eyes glowing with delight and an echo of that remembered grin lighting his friend's face.

"I don't love her, you know. I'm sure of it," he said earnestly, knowing Vin would understand.

"But you still don't remember her, do you.?"

"Don't need to. She ain't that important... compared to you."

Chris held Vin's eyes for a moment and then he turned away to readjust the strapping and secure his sore arm once more. He looked back as firm yet gentle fingers touched his undamaged arm.

"If you ain't the most stubborn..." Vin sighed and shook his head in disbelief. If he had anything more to add, then Vin never had a chance as Buck chose that moment to charge into the office flapping a piece of paper.

"Got ourselves a lead," he stated with a wide grin. "Warehouse on that industrial site just south of the city. Let's roll." Chris rose out of his chair and the grin dropped from Buck's face. "Now, hold on there, Chris. You ain't invited to this party."

"Then I'm just gonna have to gate-crash."

Buck gave a nervous laugh. "Not gonna happen."

"We had this out already at the ranch, Chris. Ain't no way you coming along. Probably get one of us killed trying to protect you when the bullets start flying."

"What about you? Doc said you had a concussion."

"Mild concussion... little more than a headache that a couple of aspirin will kill. Can't say the same for you, Chris."

Chris glared hard at Vin but the younger man refused to back down.

"So who are you leaving behind to baby-sit?" He smirked as Vin and Buck exchanged worried glances, knowing they had anticipated taking every able-bodied team member with them.

"What if this is a trick to get Chris alone?" Buck questioned.

Chris's smirk faded, as this had not crossed his mind. He had been thinking about the way they 'mothered' him rather than dwelling on any danger facing him from an outside source, prepared to offer his services as back up in one of the vehicles. However, now said aloud, he recognized that the trap could easily be sprung both ways and frowned as he voiced his thoughts.

"You sure about your information, Buck? No chance someone is spreading this to set a trap at the warehouse?"

"Came from a trusted source... but even snitches can get used." Buck stroked his mustache, no longer so eager to get moving on this piece of street hearsay without further investigation.

"We have to take that chance it's legit." Vin looked from Chris to Buck and back again. "But we don't have to walk in there blind." Vin's lips curled at one edge as he gave a mischievous half-smile. "An' I know just the man who can play babysitter."

Twenty minutes later, Chris grimaced as he sank into a comfortable seat inside Travis's office, knowing he would not be able to slip away from his eagle-eyed boss. Reluctantly, he opened the e-book he had chosen from JD's downloaded collection of Westerns, and he began to read in the forlorn hope that the story would be enough to take his mind off the danger his friends faced without him.

****

Nothing stirred around the warehouse as Vin swept the area using the sight from his snipers' rifle. He shook his head.

"Something's wrong here, Buck. Too quiet." He hissed softly and shook his head as reports from the other sides of the warehouse came in from Josiah, Nathan, Ezra and JD. "Ain't nothing been moving here in weeks judging by the rust on them padlocks."

"You figure it's a trap?"

"Yeah. But not here." He lowered the sight and looked across at Buck, licking his lips nervously as a new thought struck him. "What if this *was* a trick to get Chris alone?"

"He ain't alone, Vin."

"Ain't he?"

Buck pondered on that for a moment and Vin could see him recalling his long history with Chris and the easy way Chris had managed to get into trouble in the past. "Let's get back."

The first fire engine rushed by with siren blaring when they were only a few blocks away from the ATF building, followed by another as they reached the last intersection. Vin looked at Buck and needed no verbal command to floor the gas pedal as Buck pulled out and switched on the flashing light Vin carried for emergencies. They slipstreamed the fire engine through the heavy traffic, letting the massive engine forge a path for them. Up ahead, Vin could see smoke billowing across the road, and the knot tightened in his stomach, knowing it had to be coming from the ATF offices.

He pulled over to the side and sprang out of the Jeep, pushing his way to the makeshift tape barrier set up to keep the crowd at a safe distance. He flashed his ATF badge at a police officer as he stepped over the tape, quickly followed by the rest of Team 7, striding quickly towards the command post set up by the rescue services.

"What's happened?"

"Firebomb on the eighth floor. Fire's contained but we're starting to evacuate the building anyway."

"The eighth? That's Records," stated JD, having become familiar with that department since joining the ATF.

Vin strode off, knowing he would not get the answer to his next question from the Fire Chief. Travis's office lay on the tenth floor, above the seat of the fire. If they were evacuating then they would be most of the way down the stairs by now. He had a bad feeling about this as his memory supplied him with the layout of Travis's office and the direction of the nearest fire exit. He spared no thought to the others and he broke into a run as his sixth sense kicked into high gear.

Reaching the corner of the broad alley that lay between the buildings, Vin saw the exit open with work colleagues stepping out and being directed to safety by a member of the Fire Services. He recognized Travis's secretary coming through the doorway, followed by several assistants and then the Judge. Behind Travis, Vin saw another ATF agent supporting the familiar blond-hair and lean form of Chris Larabee. Vin could see that the long walk down the stairs, with his injured arm being jostled by others, had taken its toll and Chris stumbled.

Above the sound of the sirens and of people talking excitedly, Vin heard a bang that sent a shiver down his spine, and a small puff of dust and cement plumed from the wall close to Chris's head.

"Sniper! Get down!" Vin yelled, his words sending people running in all directions, seeking cover. He glanced back to see Buck craning up at the tall building opposite, already talking into his cell phone as he sent police and ATF after the sniper. Several officers took up position with guns readied, seeking a target while Vin raced along the alley, desperate to reach Chris and draw him to safety before the sniper had a chance to target him again.

He dropped to the ground as another shot rang out, barely heard above the cacophony of sirens, screams, and yells, instinctively looking up to pinpoint the sniper from the trajectory of the bullet.

"Buck! He's on the sixth!"

Vin pulled his SIG and let loose two shots that would have the sniper ducking for cover while he raced the final fifteen feet to where Chris lay sprawled on the ground with the body of another ATF agent draped over him. Vin knew that this was not an indiscriminate killing spree by the calculated shots. He swallowed hard as he made out the bright red blood blossoming between Chris and the other agent, refusing to dwell on who had been hit -- and how bad.

Vin reached Chris's side and silently thanked Buck and several other ATF agents who lay down gunfire to keep the sniper from taking another shot. All went quiet, and a few minutes later he saw a police car enter the alley. He beckoned it over so he could get Chris and the other agent out of the line of fire. Buck raced over and dropped down on the other side.

"He's gone... paramedics are on the way." Buck rolled the other ATF agent off Chris, pressing a wadded up jacket against the gunshot wound to the man's side. "Chris?"

"He ain't been hit." Vin grinned in relief as green eyes, filled with pain, opened and caught his. "Just winded an' a little battered from the fall." He helped Chris into a seated position. Vin looked over Chris's shoulder to meet Buck's eyes. "got to be something important going down for whoever it was to take a chance like this."

"The Norfolk shipment?"

Vin nodded. Three years back, an army weapons' shipment had gone missing en route to the naval base at Norfolk. Although the ATF had caught the ones responsible for diverting the weapons, they never recovered the shipment, believing the land-to-air missiles lost in the Florida Everglades. However, recent reports of unrest in one of the small Central American dictatorships had hinted at the corrupt government making shady deals to acquire weapons of that type.

The connection was Martinez. His nephew, Miguel, had been a Petty Officer charged with escorting the shipment to Norfolk but unknown to his superiors, someone had offered him a substantial payoff if he had the shipment diverted. He had met his fate when he and his new employers refused to surrender to the joint ATF and Military forces.

He looked back to see Chris's eyes squeezed tightly shut in pain.

"Chris?"

"Alberto."

"Alberto? What about him?" Vin leaned in closer, his fingers caressing Chris's cheek gently as if his touch could coax the memory into the light.

"I saw him." Chris shook his head and gasped. "I saw him... drawing a gun and..." He grasped his injured shoulder as if feeling, again, the impact of the bullet that had torn through him. "Damnit! It's gone."

Two paramedic crews arrived before Vin could ask Chris to try to focus on that elusive memory and, reluctantly, he stood back while the paramedics checked over Chris and the other downed ATF agent. He spared a glance for the other agent, making a solemn promise to find out whom this man was, silently hoping he would have the chance to thank him personally. Then Vin turned his attention back to Chris and concern filled him as he took in the pale, gaunt features, but the paramedic determined that Chris did not need a return trip to the hospital, releasing him into Vin's care.

Vin could see that they would not be getting back into the relative safety of the building any time soon; though he had reservations over how secure the building actually was after this bomb attack. However, he did not want Chris to remain outside in the open for too much longer either, as the sniper had managed to slip past the police cordon around the buildings by setting off the building's fire alarm. The flood of people evacuating both buildings would have made it almost impossible for the Police to target a single man or woman but the thought of the sniper still out there made Vin feel decidedly uneasy.

"Let's get out of here. Buck? You got an address for a safe house?"

"Nope... but with the Judge right over there, that's easily remedied... and then I'll tell the others."

Vin nodded, waiting patiently while Buck gained an address and relayed their plans to the rest of Team 7, and then he and Buck formed a protective shield around Chris as they hurried him out of the alley to where Vin's Jeep stood waiting.

****

Buck paused on the threshold, frowning when he saw Chris sprawled out asleep on the couch with Vin seated on the floor near Chris's head.

"He okay, Vin?"

"Nope... but that ain't gonna stop him from getting involved... memory or no memory."

Buck snorted. Just because Chris's memory had taken a vacation, it did not mean the basic make-up of the man had changed any. Chris was still the most stubborn individual he had ever met, although Vin ran a close second. The others arrived soon after and, out of deference to their exhausted leader, they talked in low voices as JD shared the information he had managed to gather from the office after the Fire Chief had given the all clear. He spread the papers around the team so everyone could read up on Miguel Martinez and his involvement in the Norfolk case.

Leaning across, Vin plucked the photo of Martinez from JD's hand. "JD... Need you to check on the whereabouts of Victor Alberto."

"Why?"

"'Cause Chris thinks that's who shot him in the back."

"Wasn't he the guy we pulled in a few years back?" Nathan asked as he looked up from the file he was reading.

"No need to go checking on him, JD. I know where to find him." Josiah's words had them looking his way, and waited for the blue eyes to rise from the paper. "City morgue."

"How? When?" Vin leaned forward, believing he already knew the answer to those questions but wanting confirmation.

"'When' is several days back. 'How' is a single shot to the back of the head, execution style."

"And the possibility of Mr. Alberto being connected with the heinous crime of shooting our esteemed leader escaped your attention?"

"Yep..." Josiah stared into Ezra's clear green eyes, "...but then, Alberto's body was found more than 700 miles from here. Only found out through a courtesy call from the Las Vegas PD... and have to admit I was a little preoccupied over one of our own to give it much thought at the time."

His eyes moved towards the couch where Chris lay sleeping, and it seemed as if his heavy gaze took on physical form, for Chris began to stir immediately as if touched, with his pale eyelashes flickering to reveal tired green eyes.

****

Chris blinked owlishly as he noticed the other men ranged around the room, and then flushed with embarrassment, realizing that he must have fallen asleep some time ago judging by the papers strewn about the floor. He sat up awkwardly, unable to use his strapped arm for support.

"What have we got so far?"

Vin leaned back so he could face Chris. "It seems we have Victor Alberto, though not in any condition to talk."

Chris grimaced. "Dead?"

A slight nod from Vin answered his question and he sighed deeply. He had awoken with a clear image of Alberto pulling his gun on him, of him running, and then feeling the searing pain through his back and shoulder as the bullet struck. However, he also recalled another man, and even though he could put a name to the face, he did not trust his memory, for the man in question had been dead for over two years. More significant, though, Chris had seen a photograph of that man only the day before but he had no recognition of him then. For all Chris knew, his mind might be playing tricks on him and filling in the holes with whatever new images came to hand.

Chris noticed that all the paperwork spread around the floor was connected to that man to some extent and he frowned as a new thought crept in.

"Who ID'd Martinez at the scene?" He indicated towards the photograph of Petty Officer Miguel Martinez.

Buck began to sort through the papers and pulled out a single sheet. He read aloud the name on the coroner's report.

"Lt. Robert Diego, his CO."

"We know anything about him?" Chris asked and saw Buck glance meaningfully at JD. JD took the hint and started tapping away on the laptop he had set up in front of him. They did not have to wait long before JD had accessed the Navy personnel system and found Diego.

"Left the Navy almost eight months ago. Last known address..." JD looked up with hazel eyes wide with surprise and excitement, "...Denver, Colorado."

"Dig up more info. I want to know what he's doing now--"

"That's already here. He joined the Police Department here in Denver straight from the Navy."

Chris saw Vin lock eyes with Buck but he did not need to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking. A bomber had managed to gain access to a secure federal building, and the sniper had managed to slip through a tight cordon of the ATF and Denver's finest without raising any suspicions. If Diego had been the sniper then he would have blended into the police presence to make his escape, maybe even carrying the rifle openly.

Still, it was all supposition with no proof other than this link between Diego and a man believed to be dead, but they had worked on weaker hunches before.

Chris's eyes widened at that thought, realizing that he did recall all those moments in cases that he had shared with Vin Tanner. He turned his thoughts to other aspects of his past, trying to see other events, places and people but gasped as pain stabbed into him.

"Chris?"

He massaged his temples with his free hand and then raised his eyes to meet Vin's. He gave a slightly bitter laugh. "I'm starting to remember more."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

The intense blue eyes focused on his and Chris felt his stomach flip with desire, and he gave a tremulous smile, internally berating the sense of bitterness that flowed through him. If he could recall all those memories shared with Vin Tanner then he would consider himself a very lucky man. And if the rest should come back eventually then that would be a bonus. However, he knew that the bitterness lay with those missing memories that kept Vin from accepting the love and desire Chris offered. He thought of this absent Mary Travis but nothing stirred in his mind. He had recalled more memories of the men sitting with him in this room than of this woman he was supposed to be dating, and possibly even courting. So why could he remember them, and Sarah and Adam, and yet have no glimmer of remembrance for Mary Travis?

'I don't love her," he thought. "Yeah, it's good... just wish there was more," he said wistfully.

Nathan's warm voice cut into his maudlin thoughts. "Seems to me you're remembering things real quick, Chris. Can only be a matter of time before you remember the rest."

"Let's hope so," Chris replied, "But, for now, I reckon we have enough to start digging deeper on Diego. I want to know where he's been these past few months... hangouts, associates... the lot. If these missiles have resurfaced, and he's in on the deal, then it must be going down real soon to have him taking high risks."

Each man quickly outlined how they planned to follow Chris's order, and then left until only Vin remained.

"For someone who can't remember much, you ain't forgotten how to give orders."

"Must be a natural-born leader."

Vin laughed softly, but the ringing of his cell phone ended the camaraderie. His laughter lines faded as his eyes flicked over to where Chris sat. "Yeah. Okay." He put the cell phone away, sighing gently. "Mary's with the Judge. He's given her this address... and she'll be here in twenty."

Chris felt his stomach tie in a knot at the thought of meeting this woman who stood between him and Vin. He did not want to hate her or feel any animosity or resentment towards her but he could feel those emotions swelling up inside him nonetheless. The twenty minutes passed by too slowly, and yet it still surprised him when Vin answered the door and let her precede him into the room. With her ash blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun and her glacial, gray-blue eyes, she seemed coldly beautiful, despite the tawny gold of skin that had been kissed by the African sun. Yet Chris felt the warmth of her pleasure in seeing him again, allowing her to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. He pulled back and looked at her more closely, seeing her soft lips form a wry smile.

"You don't remember me."

Chris shook his head and, with a desperate need to know the truth, he spoke bluntly. "Vin said we were dating."

She laughed softly. "Well... dating is hardly how I would describe our relationship." Chris had a terrible sinking feeling that she was about to reveal that they had been lovers too. "Perhaps that might have been welcome in the beginning but... We're just good friends, Chris."

She laughed again, recognizing the unintentional relief that must have flooded into his eyes at her words, and Chris wondered how he could ever have thought her cold. When he glanced across at Vin he saw barely suppressed joy in the sparkling blue eyes. Her candid response had cast aside any remaining obstacles between them, leaving them free to pursue a relationship if they so wished and, judging by the look in Vin's eyes, they shared that wish.

****

"I'll go make coffee." And leave you to talk, added Vin silently as he turned away.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he let loose the joyful grin that had threatened to break free upon hearing Mary's words. Friends. They were just friends and not lovers, or intended lovers. And Chris wanted him.

He had been fantasizing about this moment since the day they met, never truly believing it could ever be anything more than a fantasy but willing to suffer this unrequited love just to stay close to Chris. So many times in the past he had seen Chris looking at him in a speculating way but he had been too afraid to give a meaning to those strangely unreadable moments in case he was wrong. Now he knew that what he had seen was the desire Chris held for him, a desire that Chris had suppressed for the same reason: fear of losing the deep friendship that lay between them.

Losing his memory had also taken away those fears and inhibitions, and for that, Vin would be eternally grateful. The hard part now would be waiting for the right time to take that next step forward. Chris had physical injuries that needed to heal before they moved into a full sexual relationship but even that pleased Vin. It meant they would take it slow, like old-fashioned lovers, rather than leaping straight into bed together as Vin had done with previous lovers, though even the thought of gently exploring that beautiful body sent spikes of pleasure racing straight to his groin.

He pushed aside those thoughts, willing his erection down, not wanting Mary to see him all hot and hard for Chris. At least, not yet. He wanted them to have some privacy to savor this change in their relationship before announcing it to the whole world, knowing instinctively that he would find no disapproval in those who meant most to them... and anyone else could go to hell if they did not like it.

"Jumping ahead of yourself, ain't you.?"

Vin berated himself quietly, shaking his head and snorting gently at the direction his thoughts had traveled in such a short time. For all he knew, Chris's fears and inhibitions might return along with those misplaced memories, and then they would be back at square one. Still, he decided to let the dream linger on for a little while longer as he poured the freshly brewed coffee and carried it back to where Chris and Mary were talking quietly.

"Gerard was Steven's best man at our wedding. He lost his wife to cancer two years ago, and has only just felt ready to hit the singles' bars again. I intercepted him."

She laughed at her own words but, with sudden insight, Vin understood the nature of her relationship with Chris. He had played escort and dinner partner on those occasions where she had feared to walk in alone, still too caught up in antiquated social etiquette to accept an invitation otherwise. Yet she needed to be at certain functions in order to pursue her career and increase her social standing, and Chris cut a fine figure in a tuxedo. He felt a flash of anger that she had used him that way, and then realized that she had not led Chris on. He was too astute for her to use him in such a fashion so he must have agreed to escort her out of friendship.

Vin wondered why he had not recognized all of this before, and then realized that his determination not to allow his hopes to build -- and then be shattered if Chris then married Mary -- had colored his view, making him see more in Chris and Mary's relationship than was actually there.

Vin sat in silence and watched them talk, wondering if Chris realized how handsome he looked with his mussed hair and relaxed smile. All the tenseness that had existed while they waited for Mary's arrival had disappeared with her soft, reassuring words that Chris did not 'belong' to her, and never would.

'I don't love her,' Chris had said, and maybe that was true in the romantic sense, but Vin could see there was a different kind of love there instead. One of respect and friendship, but Vin had no fear of it.

"I have to go, Chris. I promised I'd pick Billy up from school." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You take care of yourself." She straightened and walked to the door, followed closely by Vin. On the threshold of the safe house she turned.

"Take good care of him, Vin."

Vin nodded. "Plan to," he said softly, offering her a gentle smile of reassurance as she slipped out, and watching her until her car had driven out of view. He returned to the front room to find Chris leaning back on the couch, waiting for him, with a smug expression upon his handsome features.

"Satisfied?" Chris asked.

Vin answered by crossing the room and sitting down on the couch beside Chris, facing him. He reached out tentatively and stroked the pale, slightly stubbled cheek; his smile broadening as Chris leaned into the caress, turning his face to kiss the palm of Vin's hand.

"Want you, Vin," he breathed softly.

Vin chuckled. "You ain't in no shape to have me... yet."

Still, Vin leaned in and pressed his lips against the softly yielding mouth, humming in open appreciation as Chris submitted to the gentle possession. A single hand carded through Vin's hair until the fingers tangled in the curls deliberately, desperate to hold Vin in place as the kiss deepened. Vin probed the willing mouth with his tongue, tasting all he could reach and dueling with the hot, wet tongue that tasted him in return. His hands swept under the dark t-shirt, eager to touch warm, naked flesh and yet they moved gently, ever aware of the injuries marring the lean body, not wanting to capture any gasps except those of pleasure.

Slowly, he eased Chris down until they lay full length on the long couch, his body trembling from the strain of keeping his weight from pressing down on Chris as his hands roved the fine flesh, teasing a small nipple until it strained hard against his fingertips. Vin thrust his hips forward against Chris, moaning into the hot mouth as his hard flesh met the equally hard evidence of Chris's arousal. Slowly he rubbed their groins together, enjoying the tantalizing yet too fleeting sparks of pleasure arising from the gentle friction.

He wanted more. He *needed* more, and his hands pushed between their close-pressed bellies to fumble at zippers and buttons without ever breaking the passionate press of lips upon lips. He gathered both shafts in his hand, stroking along the hardened lengths as he brought them to the edge. Vin swallowed the muffled cry of pleasure as Chris climaxed over his busy hand, gasping as his own release rippled through him, the hot semen spilling to mingle with Chris's, coating his fingers and smearing across their bellies as they rocked slowly in the warm afterglow of sated pleasure.

Vin moaned softly into the mouth still pressed against his, finally breaking the kiss as his lips trailed down the soft throat to nuzzle above the rapid pulse that throbbed through his still tingling lips. He pulled back and gazed across into dazed yet glowing soft green eyes, seeing no pain or regret, only deep contentment, knowing he did not need to ask if Chris was okay.

"So much for the old-fashioned way," he murmured before leaning forward to plant a gentle, almost platonic kiss upon the swollen lips of his lover.

"Hmmm?" A questioning look began to fill the still dazed eyes.

"S'okay, Cowboy. Just thinking aloud."

Vin nuzzled the blond hair, inhaling the lingering scent of shampoo and soap beneath the intoxicating raw musk of sweat and sex. He sighed and pushed away, dropping to his knees on the floor beside the couch, and his fingers reached out to brush along the strong jaw and caress the still swollen lips.

"Better get cleaned up in case the others return."

Chris nodded and, with Vin's help, he gained his feet, moving silently towards the small bedroom with its attached bathroom while Vin straightened up the cushions on the couch and opened the window a fraction to allow fresh air into the room. When he moved to the door of the bedroom, he heard the sound of running water filling the hand basin in the bathroom. Feeling a little awkward despite their earlier intimacy, Vin paused on the threshold only to have a warm, damp washcloth come sailing through the air towards him. He caught both the cloth and the welcoming grin, quickly moving forward to help Chris clean up before wiping the evidence of their lovemaking from his own flesh.

Vin looked up as he rinsed out the cloth, and grinned at Chris, knowing from the desire that darkened the green eyes that this had not been a one-time pleasure. As if hearing his unspoken thoughts, Chris straightened and stared hard into his eyes.

"I'm in it for the long haul, Vin."

The snick of the front door unlocking brought Vin's attention back to their surroundings but he relaxed as he heard Buck's voice. Vin leaned forward and stole a kiss from Chris before heading out towards the front room to intercept Buck. He knew without looking in the mirror that Buck would notice the plumpness of his lips and the contented look in his eye, coupled with the flush of sated pleasure on his face, being far too sensitive to any sexually charged atmosphere. However, although Buck was a ladies' man exclusively, Vin knew he had no hang-ups concerning gays, yet he still worried in case that generous nature did not extend to Buck's oldest and one of his newest friends forming a sexual relationship with each other.

He need not have worried for Buck turned and gave him a knowing grin.

"About time you stopped mooning at each other and made the right moves. Been damn near impossible to think straight with all them vibes in the air these past few years." Buck leaned in close. "I'm a sensitive man," he breathed softly into Vin's ear. "An' all that sexual heat an' tension ain't good for a sensitive man."

Buck's grin widened as Chris stepped back into the room and Vin hid his own grin behind his hand at the gentle ribbing that sent a bright flush of embarrassment through Chris's pale skin. It took a moment for the flush to fade but Chris refused to give into the teasing. Instead he turned their attention back to Martinez and the Norfolk shipment, reminding Buck that they had a job to do.

"Figured on bringing Diego in for questioning but he ain't been seen since the attack on the ATF building earlier. However, one of his colleagues recalled seeing him heading out of the city."

"Which way?" asked Chris.

"East."

"Lot of empty space out that way. Won't be easy tracking a man out there," added Vin, as he recalled the miles of prairie stretching eastward.

"Unless we get some air support," suggested Buck.

Chris frowned as the suggestion triggered a memory. "Heavy shipment like that ain't likely to be transported by road out there. Be too easy to spot a convoy of trucks out on the prairie."

Buck grinned. "I'll get a list of airstrips out to the east."

"Focus on the abandoned ones first. This is a big money deal so I can't see Martinez wanting to raise any suspicions at a working airstrip."

Vin watched as Buck strode off towards his car, cell phone already in hand as he relayed instructions to the others. He waited until Buck's car had turned the distant corner and then he focused back on Chris, noting the signs of fatigue on the handsome face.

"Ain't much more we can do 'til Buck comes back with that information so why don't you get some rest."

Chris sighed deeply. "You know that deal's going down soon... maybe even today."

"Maybe, but there ain't nothing we can do about it right now." Vin moved to Chris's side and skillfully guided him back to the bedroom where he used gentle pressure to encourage Chris to lay down. "Gonna have to play the waiting game an' see if the boys turn up anything."

He watched as the heavy eyelids drifted closed and then moved silently towards the door.

"Stay."

The soft words pulled Vin around to find green eyes latching onto his. Knowing there was nothing he could do until Buck returned, Vin gave into the gentle request and stretched out on the bed beside Chris, though not intending to sleep. Warm fingers threaded through his, and his last thought before sleep crept up on him was of how content he was just to be lying by his lover's side.

****

Chris startled from sleep at the sound of a cell phone's insistent ringing, and he watched as Vin sat upright and grabbed for the phone. Looking across he noted that only an hour had past and yet he felt so good. With a smile he realized that their lovemaking had done more than ease the tension from his body. It had also released a few more blocks from his mind, letting him relive more memories of shared moments with Vin and the other members of Team 7 that went beyond the job. He stretched languidly as Vin gave mostly monosyllabic answers to whomever was on the other end of the call, and then he hissed as the injury to his shoulder made its presence known.

Vin eyed him with concern as he continued with his terse conversation.

"Two hours," Vin said and then disconnected the call. He dropped the phone onto the bed and gave a rueful smile as he looked at Chris. "Wanted to wake you real slow... an' show you how special you're to me."

Chris smiled softly, not truly needing Vin to show him as he could see how special he was in the sparkling blue eyes but wishing they had been given more time nonetheless. They had rushed their first time together, too eager to find completion in each other's arms to experience the fuller pleasure that came from making love slowly. However, both of them had succumbed to the heady desire to consummate the love they felt for each other, unwilling to wait any longer in case more obstacles were strewn in their path. But now that they had experienced the physical manifestation of their love and tenderness towards each other, Chris knew that they could explore and tease at their leisure, and that thought filled him with anticipation.

"Buck found a deserted airstrip about an hour's drive from here that's seen a mite too much activity over the past week. Got Team 3 ready to go… for back up." He paused and his eyes skitted away for a moment. "I got to go."

"I'm going with you."

Vin's eyes became blue chips of diamond as they held his. "We already had this out, Chris--"

"I've got most of my memories back so it's not like I'll be some rookie--"

"An' what about your arm?"

"Ain't gonna need both arms to hold a pair of binoculars or wear a headset." Chris sighed. "Look... I'm not planning to make the assault with you. I'll work as a coordinator between the teams."

The intensity in the blue eyes never wavered. "Your word?"

Chris grimaced but he clasped the arm stretched out towards him in their familiar grip. "You got it."

Vin nodded and sighed, his eyes softening at last. "Then let's roll."

****

Just under two hours later Chris mopped the sweat off his forehead with a bandanna as he watched the seemingly deserted airfield from a relatively safe distance. He blinked against the sting of salty sweat as a single bead escaped his attention to trickle down the curve of his eyebrow and into one eye. Cursing softly, he put the discomfort out of his mind as he raised the binoculars once more. He scanned the area for any telltale signs of life though he was aware that the shipment and its protectors were located in the dilapidated hangar along with a small jet that he assumed Martinez and his men would use as a getaway.

From his vantage point just beneath the overhang at the top of a large rocky outcrop, he had a commanding view of the surrounding land, able to see many miles over a 180-degree angle. His counterpoint in Team 3 covered most of the rest, leaving just a single blind spot directly behind Chris, caused by the large outcrop upon which he waited and watched. However, Martinez and his men had shown no sign of knowing they had company so he did not let that bother him unduly. Instead, he let the binoculars drift to where he had last seen Vin taking up position, smiling grimly when he could see no sign of his lover. Vin had an uncanny ability to blend right into his surroundings, an ability that he had used to great advantage on many occasions over the years as he protected the team.

The two ATF teams kept radio silence at this stage of the operation, working off hand signals as they eased into position around the airstrip, knowing that the deal would be going down soon. The sound of an airplane caught Chris's attention and being careful not to allow any sunlight to reflect from his binoculars, he angled them towards the east, smiling as the small cargo plane came into view and circled once before landing. It rolled over the poorly kept runway gradually slowing, and then taxied back towards the old hangar before finally coming to a complete rest about sixty feet away from the large entrance.

Chris watched as the hangar door creaked open and saw two men step out. He grinned as he recognized one of the figures -- Robert Diego -- eager to see the trap sprung on the duplicitous police officer, and yet concerned that he could see no sign of Miguel Martinez. Although Diego had been Martinez' commanding officer, Chris had believed Martinez would be the one to handle the actual deal leaving Diego in charge of security.

Buck's voice came through the headset, breaking the silence.

"Chris? Is it a go?"

"No. I can't see Martinez."

Chris chewed on his lower lip in frustration as the crates of missiles were slowly loaded onboard the plane. He snarled in annoyance, knowing they could not afford to wait much longer even if that meant missing Martinez. Chris opened his mouth to give the order to move in when he caught the slightest trickle of pebbles in his peripheral vision. He dropped the binoculars and lunged for the gun he had placed on the ground beside him earlier but slowed by his injuries, he barely had time to wrap his fingers around the handle before he felt the business end of a gun pressed against his temple.

His eyes slid sideways to take in the glee-filled face of a stranger but they snapped back to the other side of the overhang as another man slithered in beside him. It was Martinez. Chris sighed raggedly as, with a grin, Martinez took the gun from his hand and sent it clattering down the slope of the outcrop before pulling off the headset Chris wore. The henchman released the pressure of his gun against Chris's temple, drawing back as Martinez indicated with a hand gesture that they were all going for a walk.

A chattering from the headset told Chris that someone was trying to reach him, and he pursed his lips together as Martinez pulled on the headset, knowing it was unlikely any of his agents knew his position had been compromised as yet. He decided that it was most likely Buck or Rob DeSalle, Team 3's Leader, seeking verification for a 'go'.

"Agent Larabee is otherwise engaged at the moment. I want everyone to hold their positions... or I kill him."

Martinez' words seemed to confirm his suspicions but then the arms' dealer frowned and Chris gave a small smile, knowing the ATF agents would have switched to a pre-arranged frequency automatically after a breach in communications security, leaving just DeSalle in contact with the intruder. He watched as Martinez turned off the unit, not wanting to be overheard.

"Did you not think it a little strange that we placed no one in such a perfect lookout point? Or did you think you were dealing with imbeciles?" Martinez snorted when Chris made no answer, and shook his head.

In truth, it had not occurred to Chris that Martinez might be lying in wait just in case the ATF located the abandoned airstrip before he had concluded his business there. The rocky outcrop had provided ample hiding places for Martinez and his henchman and Chris could only internally berate himself for not checking them out before settling in to stand watch. However, he had believed the ATF held the element of surprise as there were a dozen abandoned airstrips just like this one scattered east of Denver, and Martinez could have been at any one of them. It was only sheer luck that Buck's inquiries had struck gold so quickly.

"I was half-expecting an ATF agent to use this excellent position..." Martinez grinned, "but what a surprise to find *you* here." The smile disappeared. "Get up."

Chris struggled to his feet, hampered by his restrained arm, and jerked forward as Martinez shoved the gun into his back. Needing no second order, Chris clambered out from beneath the overhang, glaring at the henchman who had taken several steps back, and hearing the skitter of pebbles as Martinez followed. Chris felt Martinez' gun push hard against his spine and he walked down the rocky slope, falling back onto his ass several times as shifting pebbles made it treacherous underfoot. He bit back a cry each time as the fall jarred his injuries, not wanting to give Martinez any additional power over him by revealing how much he already hurt, but by the time they had walked partway towards the hangar, Chris was limping badly from protesting muscles in his barely healed thigh. He was almost grateful for the jeep that came out of the hangar to meet them and take them the rest of the way though it gave him less time to think up a plan. He knew the other ATF agents would stay low until they had orders to move and was thankful that DeSalle was a man he could trust to make good decisions.

The jeep pulled up just inside the hangar and it was Diego who motioned Chris to get out and walk into a wide-open area, becoming the third point of a large triangle with the hangar and the plane. He limped forward, his eyes darting in all directions but otherwise making no show of knowing where the ATF agents were positioned. Only a few more crates remained on the ground waiting to be loaded but the buyer's hired men made no movement towards them for Chris's unexpected presence commanded all their attention. It seemed to Chris that Martinez had not bothered to mention to his Buyer that there was a strong possibility that their deal had been uncovered. No doubt Martinez had hoped it would be concluded long before the ATF showed up, though the ease with which he had captured Chris proved that he had not been taking any chances.

"Stop there."

Chris stopped and turned back to face the hangar, unable to fault Diego's strategy. There was no cover within forty feet of where he stood, making him a sitting target for Martinez' men should anyone try anything, and with his visibility acting as a constant reminder to his own men of his vulnerability. All Chris could hope was that Diego or Martinez would not decide to kill him anyway once they had completed the deal, though it made more sense for them to take him with them now that their illegal activities had been uncovered. His presence onboard their getaway plane would ensure that the ATF agents did not fire upon it or try to force it to land before reaching international airspace, over which the US had no jurisdiction.

Chris smirked as an intense argument started up between Martinez and his counterpart, knowing that the buyer had similar thoughts of wanting a hostage to ensure his plane got out of the country safely with the missiles. However, for that they would need at least one more hostage but Chris knew DeSalle would not give up another agent even if they threatened to shoot Chris where he stood. It would be an empty bluff. Shooting Chris would leave them with no hostage at all -- and no reason for the ATF to hold back.

The argument settled quickly and Chris had no choice but to stand by uselessly and watch as they loaded the last of the crates and started the plane's engines. From inside the hangar, Chris heard the jet's engines start up too and he watched as it taxied slowly through the wide doors, heading towards him. It came to a halt while the cargo plane taxied to the end of the runway and prepared to take off, and Chris winced as he heard the roar of the engines as the cargo plane began to pick up speed and then soar into the sky. Once airborne, the small jet began to move closer to Chris again until it was barely thirty feet away, and he could only tighten his lips in frustration as one of Martinez men jumped down and raced towards him.

A single gunshot sent the man sprawling in the dirt with red blossoming over his chest. Chris dropped to the ground, curling up to make a smaller target as several gunshots peppered the ground close to him before gunfire from the ATF agents forced Martinez to slam the hatchway closed. The jet picked up speed and took off, banking hard to take the quickest route out of US airspace. Yet through the scream of its engines, Chris was certain he could feel the vibration of steady, pounding feet upon the hard ground and he looked up to see Vin racing towards him, the sniper rifle gripped loosely in one hand.

****

It had been a calculated risk, moving while the arms dealers' loaded the last of the crates but DeSalle had been willing to let Vin make for a better position in order to offer covering fire should Martinez decide Chris was expendable. The cargo plane taking off gave him the extra distraction he needed to slither another thirty feet, mostly on his belly, though he dearly wished he could have moved in closer to Chris rather than around him in an arc. However, there was no cover where Chris stood on unsteady feet.

Once Vin had found the best possible vantage point in the time available, he settled down on the dusty ground and positioned the sniper rifle, lining Chris up in his sights for one brief moment just for reassurance that Chris would be okay for a little longer. His eyes caressed the pain-lined features, knowing from the way Chris held his arm and by the lean of his body as he favored his leg, that his injuries were troubling him.

The jet had taxied out of the hangar earlier while Vin was moving, and now it started to move forward again towards the end of the runway, passing close to where Chris stood.

Vin kept his sight trained on the open hatchway, remaining as still as a statue as he waited for the inevitable, knowing instinctively that Martinez planned to take Chris onboard as a hostage. He saw a man appear in the hatchway and then leap down from the slowly moving jet, heading towards Chris with his gun raised. Vin lined the man up in his sights and his finger tightened on the trigger. He licked his lower lip, almost sighing in relief when DeSalle gave the order to take out the man heading for Chris. Pushing aside any concerns for his lover, Vin targeted the henchman and softly praying Chris would not move into his line of fire at the wrong moment, he squeezed the trigger. He felt a stab of guilt as the man fell into a bloody heap halfway between the jet and Chris, knowing he would have fired even if DeSalle had not given the order for he'd had no intention of letting Martinez get Chris onto that jet. Once airborne and outside US airspace Martinez would have no more need for Chris, and the fact that he had already ordered two attempts on Chris's life proved that he would not balk at killing him once his usefulness had come to an end. Vin had no doubt that either Martinez or Diego would murder Chris and then jettison his body over international waters where no one would ever find it.

He saw Chris drop to the ground and curl up tight almost at the instant the bullet struck the henchman, dredging up a grateful smile that Chris had recalled enough of his ATF training to know he had to get himself out of the firing line and make as small a target as possible. Quickly realigning his sight back to the jet, Vin cursed when the wing hindered his view of Diego at the hatchway, leaving Chris in the corrupt police officer's line of fire. The other ATF agents started firing at the jet but not before Diego had managed to get off several rounds that formed tiny plumes of dust as they struck the ground far too close to Chris for Vin's comfort.

As soon as the hatchway closed, Vin leapt to his feet and raced across the hard ground to where Chris still lay, gasping in relief as Chris uncurled and looked straight at him. Vin dropped to his knees beside Chris letting the rifle clatter uselessly to the ground beside him as he reached over to grasp Chris's shoulder, wishing he could be holding and kissing him instead.

The rest of the team raced over with DeSalle and Team 3. DeSalle was talking through a handheld radio but he ended the transmission as he approached Chris.

"Navy jets are on an intercept course for both planes with orders to blow them out of the skies if they don't land. They won't get away."

****

A few hours later Chris learned that the fighters had forced the cargo plane to land just inside the US border with Mexico, much to the delight of the US Navy who now had their missiles back. In contrast, Martinez had not been prepared to go down without a fight but his small jet had been no match for the F-14 Tomcats sent out to bring it down by force if necessary. The jet and all those onboard were scattered across the Gulf of Mexico.

The team celebrated the successful conclusion of the case and the return of Chris's memories at the ranch. Throughout, Vin rarely left his side but Chris had no objections, being still too aware of how close he had come to losing his life before he and Vin could even start to explore this new facet to their relationship.

As he nursed the single beer Nathan had allowed him, Chris grinned when Buck returned from his latest unsuccessful attempt to convince JD how he should handle his budding romance with Casey Wells. Still, the refusal had not dampened the man's spirits and a beaming smile accompanied him back to couch as he sat down next to Chris. They talked of inconsequential things for a while but, inevitably, the conversation turned back to the case.

"What I don't understand is why they chose to make the deal out here." Buck shook his head as he sipped at his beer. "Not exactly a short hop out of the States from Denver."

"Maybe that's why," replied Vin. "If Chris hadn't stumbled across them in Purgatorio then no one would have figured on that kind of deal going down 'round here. Both planes had legitimate flight plans."

"That reminds me..." Buck grinned again and reached down to the bag he had stowed under the couch when they first arrived. He drew out a case and placed it on the low coffee table in front of Chris. The others had gathered around with expectant looks on their faces. "Happy Memories Back, Chris."

Chris looked at the case and then reached out with his good hand to release the clasp and raise the lid. He gasped softly at the Colt Model P lying inside, holstered within a black leather, silver studded belt. Carefully, he drew the gun, feeling the strangely familiar weight. The last of his misplaced memories slotted back into place as he recalled holding this piece for just a moment in that gun store before Victor Alberto stepped out from the back room... and all hell broke loose.

He recalled the searing agony of a bullet tearing into his back, of sprawling to the ground and dragging himself back to his feet. He remembered seeking safety in the dark shadows of an alley, only to be illuminated by the bright lights of a car that sent boxes and cans scattering in all directions as the driver misjudged the space and ploughed into the garbage awaiting collection. Chris had a feeling he would never recall the rest, just snatches of sounds and smells as he fought to remain conscious and reach the safety of arms he had dreamed of holding him for so long.

"Chris?"

Blinking rapidly, Chris focused on the worried blue eyes. "I remember this gun... and Alberto. Tried to talk him down when he pulled his piece, telling him he was being stupid... and then Martinez came through from the back." Chris squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to focus on the hazy scene. "Knew the face but couldn't put a name to it." His eyes opened. "But I knew Diego straight off. Had a run in with him a few weeks back over missing records of gun busts." Chris drew a deep breath. "Alberto didn't shoot me in the back. It was Diego."

Vin nodded slowly. "Figures. Well... he ain't gonna cause you any more problems."

Chris turned his attention back to the gun, admiring its fine lines and then, silently wishing he had both hands free, he placed it onto the table so he could run his fingers along the stag grip. "Been looking for one like this for a long time. It's beautiful." He looked up with a grin that encompassed all his friends.

"Thank you."

****

**Epilogue - One Month Later:**

Chris shut the door on the beaming, mischievous grin on Buck's face, shaking his head and laughing softly in remembrance of his oldest friend's waggling eyebrows when Chris mentioned that Vin would be staying at the ranch for the weekend -- again. He leaned back against the closed door, his smile widening as he recalled Buck's parting shot.

"Tell Vin, if he ain't in bed by ten... then he's got to go home."

Chris did not need to ask Buck whose bed he was referring to as that was obvious by the leer that followed, and he grinned again, once more grateful for his friend's easy acceptance of a sexual relationship between him and Vin. His grin became a seductive smile as Vin stepped into the hallway upon hearing the last car drive away; Vin stepped towards him, making a great show of looking at his wristwatch.

"Nine fifty-three," he stated with a voice roughened with desire, and Chris chuckled, fully aware that Vin's sharp hearing had easily caught Buck's parting words, probably just as Buck had intended.

"Horses have got to be bedded down for the night..." Chris's lips twitched as he suppressed a grin, feeling a little lightheaded with anticipated pleasure.

"JD saw to 'em before he left," Vin countered as he took another step forward.

"Got a lot of dishes to wash..."

"They can wait 'til morning."

Chris looked at the clock standing by the wall. "Nine fifty-four."

Vin took two final steps and reached for Chris, brushing one hand through his hair while the other clasped Chris's uninjured shoulder. Their lips met, nuzzling softly, licking and nibbling in gentle abandon while they hummed and moaned in contentment, until Vin pulled back sharply, his lips flushed with color and glistening from Chris's inviting, wet kisses. He cleared his throat as he raised his arm, his eyes flicking towards his wristwatch.

"Nine fifty-seven." His voice, hoarsened by need, washed over Chris, sending shivers of desire through him.

Chris moved out of Vin's loose embrace and headed for the stairs but he paused on the first step and turned to Vin with a raised eyebrow.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He laughed softly as Vin raised both of his in mock disbelief and then, holding out his hand, Chris invited Vin to join him. They climbed the stairs hand in hand, passing beyond the partially redecorated shell of Chris's bedroom to the largest guest room. Once inside, Chris began to fumble with his clothing, hampered slightly by the lingering weakness in his still healing arm.

"What's the rush, Cowboy?"

Chris frowned, his fingers stilling, and he held his breath and watched as Vin crossed his arms to gather the hem of his deep blue t-shirt in agile fingers. He raised his arms to pull the t-shirt up his torso in one swift movement, revealing the almost hairless, well-muscled chest and the six-pack stomach that Chris recalled seeing on so few occasions before they became lovers... but there was no shyness now. The t-shirt dropped to the carpet, and Vin quickly kicked off his trainers and unzipped his jeans, turning until his back was to Chris. Vin dragged the denim down his lean-muscled thighs to his ankles smoothly, keeping his legs straight, raising his finely curved ass high into the air and then wiggling it in an obvious invitation to his lover before straightening up again.

Chris swallowed hard as Vin kicked away the denim before throwing back the light cotton cover from the bed. Vin lay down on the bed, leaning up on his side, with a crooked smile his only adornment as the heat in his eyes beckoned to Chris.

"Thought you said there was no rush," Chris asked as his eyes raked over the beautiful body displayed just for him.

As if in answer, the clock in the hallway chimed the hour, with its melodic tones drifting up from below to fill the silent air with its magical notes. As the last note died, Vin licked his lips, leaving glistening tracks that mesmerized Chris.

"Not for you, Larabee... but I recall I had to be in bed by ten."

Chris laughed gently as he recalled Buck's words and then, with a seductive grin, he reached for his t-shirt and toyed with the hem for a moment. He waited until a look of desperation formed on the desire-filled face, feeling giddy from the power he held over this usually patient man, and then he raised the soft material to just below his armpits. Chris stared down at Vin, wanting to tease his lover a little more as he toyed with his own nipples, tugging and rubbing at the small buds until they peaked in desire. He licked his lips as he watched Vin's shaft lengthen until it was standing thick and proud, bobbing against the well-muscled stomach with every harsh breath Vin took, the sight increasing his own excitement, and bringing a halt to his teasing.

Chris tugged the t-shirt off and let it drop to the floor before turning his attention to his tight black jeans and flicking open the single button before toying with the zipper. He grinned at the soft gasp Vin let out when he realized Chris wore no underwear, seeing Vin's eyes darken further with lust as they locked onto the triangle of pale skin, dusted with dark-golden curls. Chris wriggled his hips to ease the tight denim down his thighs, hearing a moan of approval from Vin as he freed his hardened shaft. As he eased the jeans down his legs, he watched Vin's agile fingers as they stroked the length of his own hard flesh, suddenly hungry as a pearlescent droplet of desire beaded at the tip only to be smeared over the flushed head. Chris hungered for the salty-sweetness of his lover, wanting to feel the exquisite taste burst over his questing tongue as it dipped into the slit to flicker against the sensitive glans, drawing more liquid pleasure from the heated flesh.

He grasped his own hard flesh and teased the sensitive slit with the rough base of his thumb, moaning his excitement as he watched Vin's hips jerk in response to his unabashed display.

In more lucid moments he had felt awe at their uninhibited display, having never known a lover who could be so open about his needs, and so at ease with the sexual aspect of their relationship. With Vin there was no fumbling in the dark, and no need to guess what worked -- or did not work -- for Vin's open appreciation fell from his kiss swollen lips in a litany of moans and hoarse words of encouragement. In return, Chris felt no need to hide the eager response of his body from the man who writhed on the bed before him. He knew he was wanted and cherished, and he knew every touch he made against his flesh sent shivers of desire through Vin... just as it affected him when Vin played with himself so openly in front of him.

Chris laughed softly at the amazing difference in the two people he had loved most in his life. Sarah had been vivacious to the point of brashness, a social creature who loved to flirt but who always returned to his side to gaze adoringly, and possessively, up at him... and yet in bed she had been the shy one, hiding in the shadows of a lamp-lit room, burrowing under the sheets to make love to him. In contrast, Vin was the one who hugged the shadows at social events, rarely speaking except among friends or unless necessity demanded it. Yet they rarely made love in the dark, except for the one time when they lay on a blanket in the field just behind the ranch house, naked flesh bathed only in starlight until the moon rose to cast them in its silvery beams.

After a full month as lovers, Chris knew Vin liked to watch him, wanting to know him intimately through sight as well as touch, with the heat of his stare like fire licking at his skin, searing him with Vin's desire and igniting his own passion in response. Chris knew he had a similar effect on Vin, smirking as he recalled the time they made love without once touching the other's flesh, climbing to the heights of passion through masturbation and sight alone.

He felt the first tingle of approaching orgasm and released his shaft, drawing back from the edge. Tonight it would be different. Tonight Chris wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted to feel those strong fingers glide over his flesh as he buried himself deep inside this most beloved body.

"Want you," he whispered, suddenly a little uncertain, as this was something he had never asked for, or done, before. Until now, he had freely given himself to Vin, letting Vin possess him deeply and more intimately than any person before him. This time, though, he wanted to possess Vin and feel the beautiful, strong body submit to him, giving Vin the same amazing pleasure that he felt when Vin took him.

A beatific smile blazed across the handsome face. "About time, Cowboy. Been wanting you from the first time I saw you.."

"Then what have you been waiting for?"

"You... to be ready."

Chris grinned. "Reckon I'm ready now."

He crawled onto the bed over Vin, leaning down to take the smug lips in a possessive kiss. Even though their bodies were not touching, Chris could feel the heat rising from Vin's naked flesh and he released the swollen lips so he could feast upon the soft skin, licking and biting as he worshipped the strong body. His lips brushed over the tightened bud of a nipple, and Chris heard an appreciative moan as Vin arched upwards for more stimulation. Unable to deny his lover, Chris lapped at the sensitive bud before drawing it in tightly and suckling it like a babe-in-arms. Sarah had loved this too but it had never occurred to Chris -- before Vin -- that it could also be an erogenous zone for a man, sending sparks of desire racing through his blood to set his whole body aflame.

He pulled back from the wanton, writhing body, licking his lips in silent appreciation of the muscular torso glistening with beads of perspiration, and the beautiful, engorged shaft that arched towards him. Vin was breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, lips parted and eyes closed. They opened to narrow slits, watching him intently as Chris reached for the lube and smeared a generous amount over his fingers. He knew what he had to do for Vin was a good teacher, never too shy to explain what he was doing and why as on those times when he had prepared Chris for this ultimate possession.

Vin spread his legs wide as Chris's lube-slicked fingers traced down the soft skin of inner thigh, skirting the sensitive genitals as he sought the ring of muscle guarding the entrance to Vin's body. He felt the muscle quiver as he stroked over it, and then give as he eased in one finger to stroke the lube deep inside. Vin clenched his muscles against the finger but Chris could see by the glazed eyes that it was pleasure rather than pain governing his actions. He stroked deeper, hearing a gasp as Vin arched off the bed with a hissing 'yes', knowing he had found the amazingly sensitive gland and grinning inanely as he recalled the first time Vin had touched that spot inside him, sending Fourth of July fireworks rocketing through his body.

He added another finger, slowly stretching the muscle, waiting for a sign from Vin that he was ready for something thicker. Vin began to thrusting down against his busy fingers, body slick with perspiration and head thrown back in pleasure as he pulled his legs back to give Chris greater access; Chris needed no other encouragement. He pulled out his fingers and positioned the blunt head of his engorged penis against the loosened muscle, pushing in slowly but firmly, mesmerized by the sight of his aching flesh disappearing inside his lover's body.

It was amazing... so hot and tight against his sensitive flesh, fitting him like a velvet glove. He pulled back until almost out and then slid back with one smooth motion, pushing deeper inside and was rewarded by a choked cry of pleasure as Vin wrapped his legs tight around Chris's waist. His heels dug into Chris's ass cheeks, forcing him in harder on the next thrust as Vin's fingers scrabbled for a hold upon the bed, one hand finally tangling into the sheet beneath him as he rode each of Chris's thrust with abandon while the other wrapped around his erection, pumping his own flesh. He came hard, crying out Chris's name as his essence splattered across his belly and chest, and Chris's senses followed as the clenching muscles sent him soaring in ecstasy.

He crashed back down to earth on top of the spent body of his lover, muscles trembling too hard from the soul-deep orgasm to find the strength to move. He moaned as his rapidly softening shaft slipped from its heated cocoon of semen-slicked flesh, hearing a similar sigh from Vin. Finally, he found the strength to flop to one side of Vin, unable to wipe the silly grin from his face as he stared up at the ceiling. Fingers entwined within his and they lay side by side in warm, companionable silence, bodies resonating in perfect harmony as the last tremors of passion washed through them.

"Was worth it," Vin mumbled softly, voice low with sated pleasure.

"Hmm?"

"Was worth the waiting." He rolled to his side and leaned up on one elbow, looking down at Chris with a lazy smile of contentment. "Can't say I liked seeing you hurt, but I thank the day you misplaced your memories," he leaned in and kissed Chris gently and then whispered softly, "...else I might still be waiting."

Chris recalled those frightening days when he had felt so lost and then smiled; knowing that he had never been alone, though, for Vin had been with him every step of the way. And now that he had recovered most of his memories, he knew Vin was right, for the complicated world inside his head, that he had lost for a time, would have found a way to keep them apart, too scared to take a gamble on love again... and it *was* love, not just sex or lust.

He did not need words to show his agreement, letting actions speak instead as he drew Vin down for another warmly possessive kiss, lingering to fully taste the uniqueness of his lover and searing the memory of that taste and scent deep into his soul where it would never be forgotten or misplaced.

THE END


End file.
